Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Eric and Sabrina are at the kitchen table, digging into their breakfast before they head to church with their parents, as they always do on Sundays. Red's still at the kitchen counter, preparing his coffee. As is Kitty, though she's much more chirpy than usual. She twirls around to the radio's music as she pours some orange juice into the pitcher, not forgetting to hip-bump Red before she returns to the twins.
"Well, now." She pours juice into their glasses. "Aren't the waffles extra delicious this wonderful morning?"
"Did you quit smoking again?" Sabrina questions, grinning at her mother's rather infectious merriment.
"And why do you ask, little one?"
"Well, you're kinda talking like Snow White," Eric tells her.
"Eric," Red drawls scoldingly.
"Which is great!" Eric adds, attempting to think of something encouraging. "Um, I really want you to quit."
"Well, I should've quit a long time ago. I'm a nurse. I know better." She goes over to pick up a plate from the counter, hovering it in front of her children with a loving smile. "More sausage?" They eagerly accept, and she takes a seat.
The phone rings, and Red pipes up. "I'll get it."
He spends a minute there before he makes his way back. Kitty looks up from her food. "Who was that, dear?"
"Uh, my mother." He clears his throat, somewhat reluctant to utter the next words. "Seems like Uncle Paul broke his ankle and, uh . . . she's going to church with us today!"
Kitty's smile transforms into a deadly frown in an instant.
"No, she's not," she protests. "It's Paul's turn to take her."
"Well, like I said, he broke his ankle."
"Broken ankle, whatever. It's his turn."
"Kitty, the man is injured."
She flails her arms up. "Okay, that's just great." She laughs, but there's no mirth present. She walks over to the fridge. "I will just take the chicken out of the freezer." She withdraws the planned food from the oven with a smack, not even bothering to wear cooking gloves. "Because Queen Bernice doesn't like ham!"
"Okay, okay." Red goes to her, leaning against the counter. "I'll just call her and tell her that we can't make it."
"Oh, Red, Red, Red! You know who'll get blamed for that."
