Writing Prompt: It needs longer in the oven.

Morning all, I am feeling a bit stuffy and puffy this chilly Monday morning. I am hoping my sinus tabs will clear it up, but until then, I will just ignore it and focus on the morning prompt. So without further preamble, let’s jump into it.

I like the thought of a completely unreasonable character. Not sure what the story is, but it could be an interesting wrinkle to throw into someone’s world.

Monday, January 23rd: It needs longer in the oven.

It needed longer in the oven, she could tell by the color of the top.  She didn’t need to tap the loaves and listen for the hollow sound.  The color and the scent in the air told her what she needed to know.

“Well, are they done yet?” he snapped.

“No,” she replied.

He sighed heavily as though this was a great inconvenience for him.  “Why aren’t they ready?” he demanded.  “It’s time to eat.”

“It’s early for dinner,” she told him.  “They will be ready by then.”

His face hardened and he glared.  “If I am ready for dinner then it is time for dinner.”

She took a deep breath.  Lately his tantrums were getting worse.  She wasn’t sure how to deal with it or who she should tell.  There really was no one to tell.  They all thought the world of him.

“We always eat at the same time each day,” she reminded him, keeping her voice gentled in the hopes of not setting him off.  “Six o’clock on the dot.  We go by the clock in the town square.  It is on;ly half past four now.”

She moved to the worktop and began the tasks she lined up there.  At this time of day there were always the same tasks.  She liked the routine of it and usually this was her favorite time of day.  This was the time of day when she would make the quickly baking sweets to finish off the evening meal.  She would mix them up and after sliding out the loaves from the oven, she would tuck them in.  By the time the bread loaves were cool enough to take to the meal, the sweets would come out of the oven and left to cool while they gathered for their meal.

Usually it was a quiet time where she got to play with the ingredients and enjpoy herself with shapes and designs.  Ever since he arrived, things had changed.  This was the earlierst he ever arrived in her space, demanding dinner be earlier than planned.  It was also the surliest. 

“Dinner is when I say it is,” he replied. 

She had no answer for that and continued working.

“I want my dinner now,” he bellowed.  His yells brought Colin to the door.  He took in the scene. She knew it had to look odd.  Her working, him bellowing like an enraged bull.

“Something wrong?” Colin asked from the doorway.

“I am hungry and want my dinner.  She is telling me it isn’t ready yet.” He yelled, clearly believing Colin would take his side.  As Colin usually did it was an understandable belief.  This time Colin’s face crinkled in confusion and he looked out of the window to the clock set in the center of town.

“It’s only half past four,” Colin said.  “It’s not time to eat yet, of course nothing’s ready.” There was a note of amusement in his voice.

“I said I want to eat.  And when I want to eat it is time to eat no matter what the blasted clock says,” he yelled.  His face went an alarming shade of red and the tendons in his neck stood out.  Hs hands  bunched into fists by his side and he looked as though he wanted to punch something, anything.

“Calm down,” Colin said.  “Its just a little wait. You can’t be that hungry, not after what you ate at mid day.”

“I will eat what I want, when I want.  You peasants wouldn’t understand that.  I deserve the best.  I deserve what I want.”

Colin frowned, his face darkening. Anger was rising.

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