George and Martha Jenkins had been married for 20 years, and retirement suited them just fine. They stayed in a lovely home in the Oakwood neighborhood with a wide front porch with two his and hers well-worn rocking chairs that had seen better days - just like the occupants.
It was a lazy Tuesday morning, and George was thumbing through the newspaper while Martha was on the phone and working on her crossword puzzle. The sound of kids playing basketball echoed from down the street, mixing in with their squeaking rocking chairs.
George's stomach rumbled loudly enough to make Martha look up.
"I sure could go for some pie and ice cream right now," he said loud enough for Martha to hear him.
Martha looked at him over her reading glasses. "Well, I have pie in the fridge, and I can get you some," she offered, setting down her puzzle.
George's face lit up. "Ok! That would be great!" he replied, then immediately added, "Don’t forget the ice cream - you're always forgetting things."
"I won't forget," Martha said, standing up with a grunt. "And you're just as forgetful as me anyway." She smoothed her floral housedress and headed for the screen door.
"Remember when you left your dentures on top of the refrigerator?" she added with a smirk before disappearing inside.
George looked at her and “I don’t know why you straighten out your gown for ain’t back there!”. “You know it’s back there, you see it keeps eating up this gown up. Plus you can’t keep your hands off it.
George huffed and resumed reading about the local high school football team's disappointing season.
In the kitchen, Martha busied herself. The familiar sounds of cabinet doors opening, dishes clattering, and silverware clinking drifted through the screen door.
Two minutes passed. George lowered his newspaper and glanced toward the door.
Five minutes. Another glance.
Seven minutes. George folded his newspaper and set it aside. "What the hell is taking her so long?" "And she better not forget my damn ice cream." He mumbled
Fifteen minutes now. George considered yelling into the house but decided not to do it. Martha hated when he yelled.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to George (but was actually 29 minutes), the screen door creaked open. Martha walked out carrying a plate, which she set down in front of George with a glass of apple juice.
George looked up at Martha then down in confusion at a steaming plate of grits, two perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, and buttered toast.
He looked backed up at Martha, his face contorted somewhere between confusion and unhappiness. After a long pause, he said: "I knew you'd forget the bacon!"