As Sierra added the 3c water, 12c flour, and 8T vanilla to the mixing bowl, Jordan burst through the door from the garage, where he had been counting cases of .45ACP ammunition stored behind the false wall he'd built with his grandfather, who told him 'The day will come, Bubba, when you'll need this to care for your family like a real man.' Sierra gasped as Jordan's bulgy muscles flexed - he was an avid CrossFitter and it showed - then turned on the KitchenAid(R) at low speed to start mixing the dough. Granny's recipe was good, but poor Granny didn't have a KitchenAid(R) to help with her daily work. The arthritis took away much of her kitchen joy. Pulling herself away from her ponderings of Jordan's muscles and Granny's hands, Sierra asked, "What's going on, dear? You seem perturbed!"
"MURDER!" shouted Jordan.
"I was in
the garage, performing my quotidian tasks of counting beans, bullets,
and Band-aids(TM), and heard a shot! I swiftly donned my Infidel-brand
civilian body armor, grabbed my Glock 19 and fourteen extra magazines,
unleashed Ruger, our attack trained German Shepherd, put his doggles and
K-9 armored vest upon his burly chest, and ran outside to see what was
a-clatter. Bob Smith stood in his driveway, next to his wussy hybrid car
he bought because his wife convinced him to vote Democrat and buy into
'climate change' (he scoffed at this) and there, on the ground, was
Susie Smith, fake nails and all!
"I performed CPR
because I'm a trained Combat Medic and can save her life, but then I
realized she had been shot right between the eyes with a .308 Win Mag round from
approximately a mile away! I scanned the perimeter of the neighborhood
while Bob called the police, but you know THEY are never around when we
need them. Ruger began to patrol around us as I closed Susie's eyes and
wiped off twelve pounds of lipstick from my lips and Bob wept openly at
the loss of his poor, confused wife. Who could do such a thing? We're
under attack. Is it the Russians? Was Susie a spy they no longer
needed?" Jordan approached, his big bulgy man chest heaving.
took magically completed muffins from the oven and offered him one.
"Here, babe, have one of Granny's vanilla coffee bean extract chocolate
protein shake whole grain muffins I just finished baking. Eat it while I
write all of this down on the notepad I made Tuesday during my
papermaking project time."
As Sierra sat down with
her homemade paper and handcarved pencil, she watched Jordan eat the
muffin. Crumbs dropped sexily onto his Under Armour(TM) Thinsulate(TM)
T-shirt and she was tempted to lick an organic, Fair Trade, shade grown
chocolate chip from the bulk bag from the warehouse store off him when
she noticed something.... Gasp! Could it be? There was
Susie's favorite color of lipstick [which Sierra has always hated; she made
her own beeswax lip balm with wax from her beehives and colored it
with mineral powders chipped from a canyon by her wayward hippie
brother, Charlie] on Jordan's collar! Could it be? He couldn't have. He
must have just slipped onto Susie's face while performing CPR. He had
mentioned they worked out at the same CrossFit gym, but her Jordan was
bullet proof around fancy yuppies like Susie. And he was an ardent
Libertarian - no WAY would he be attracted to someone like Susie. But wait....Susie loved to bake! What if
Jordan was eating Susie's muffins too? That would make Bob jealous - and make him her prime
Sierra turned the page and started a new list: