Before the Horns - A Bob Velseb Story

Chapter 7

"Are you sure ya don't need a ride?" Bob offered, insistently, "It ain't no trouble to me if I take ya, don't want my employees walkin' out in the cold and dark."

Charlie eyed the grubby car Bob was offering to take her home in. Even if she could take the offer, she wouldn't have. The old thing was disgusting, and she was convinced if she touched it she'd catch something, or at least see a cockroach or two. While her suspicions were likely untrue, she denied. She wasn't allowed to.

"I'm alright thanks. It really isn't that late. I know the way." Charlie informed Bob, hands in pockets.

Bob began to protest but thought better of it. From what he could tell, she was pretty independent and tended to refuse his help in any form. That was alright though, not everyone was super friendly or wanted help from others. Sarah was probably just shy. 

Bob got into the little beat up vehicle, waving to Sarah as he pulled away. He was sure to drive slow so she'd leave while he was still pulling out of the lot, just so he was positive she left safely. Once he made it out of sight of Boys & Grills, Bob plugged an address into his phone. The day had gone so well with Sarah around, he just had to get her an apron and hat as soon as possible, and hey maybe even a little gift of thanks too.

It was the first time in a long time Bob didn't feel like a zombie on the way home and holy cow did it feel great. He smiled to himself, glad he hadn't listened to John's suspicions. A tiny little voice in the back of his head tried telling him maybe it was still a good idea to be wary, but Bob tuned it out. He was in too good of a mood for John's usual conspiracies to get him down.

Marching away form a not so skillfully executed parking job, Bob paraded into the little kitchenware shop confidently, in search of a red apron to match his. After about fifteen minutes of looking around and his ego slowly grinding itself back down to size, he had to ask an employee for help. 

The worker helped Bob to find an apron that he thought was roughly Sarah's size, and he grabbed a pack of paper boxes and cupcake wrappers. After making his purchase, Bob pulled out of the parking lot and made his way back home.

He was wearing the biggest smile he had worn in months.

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Charlie stalked quietly past her new manager's house on her way to meet her boss. His car wasn't in the driveway yet, and that was odd. From what she knew, every day after work Bob would stumble in the door, make himself dinner, and immediately fall asleep in front of the television before even finishing his meal. He'd done the same every day for two weeks without fail. Why was he late today? 

Probably got hit on his way home she thought. The moment the thought formed however, she scared herself a little. Oh my god, what if he got hit? The plan would be a bust! If he's hurt I'm screwed! I'll be in so much trouble! Charlie looked down the street worriedly, hoping, praying, pleading that there hadn't been a wreck somewhere. The only thing that could have been worse was his car coming down the street to pull into his driveway.

Now she was in an even worse panic. Hoping, praying, pleading, he hadn't seen her in his yard, she continued down the sidewalk. She made it down a house or two before he pulled up to his house, and curiosity got the better of her. Charlie peeked over her shoulder to make sure Bob wasn't looking for her. Luckily she'd gone unnoticed, however the buffoon had been on his phone on the road. 

"Oh my god he really is an idiot," she groaned, continuing down the street. The walk to Mr. Carter's house wasn't far from Boy's & Grills, but the detour past Bob's house turned what would be a fifteen minute walk into nearly thirty. 

Charlie walked up the driveway of an extravagantly large home. It was in a more wealthy portion of the town, yet still overshadowed most of the other houses on the street. The entryway was decorated by beautiful archways that encased a grand front porch. The door had twin stained glass windows on either side of it as well as above, and the door had a beautifully molded brass knocker. Charlie raised the ring on the knocker, and rapped it on the door in a specific pattern. Thud, short pause, thud, long pause, thud, short pause, thud, thud.

A little girl could be heard calling to someone from inside, before pulling the door open. Holding the brass knob stood a little girl with lavender hair in pajamas. 

Lila's face lit up and she let go of the knob, throwing her hands in the air and exclaimed, "Mrs. Charlie!"

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Baking was never exactly Bob's forte, but he really was trying. Sure you couldn't tell by the mess he'd made of his clean little kitchen, but there was definitely an effort being made. 

Having been the chef at Boys & Grills so long, Bob thought baking couldn't be so hard. Just toss the ingredients in a bowl, mix, and throw the mixture in the oven. Boy was he wrong. He'd gained a new respect for the little old ladies on the 'stupid' baking shows that used to be on constantly in the house. 

Bob tore back through the recipe book, trying to find where he'd gone wrong. 'Place batter in oven at 350 until golden brown,' it read.

"Place batter into oven 'til- I'm trying Betty! I put it in, it stays raw as a slab of beef out the freezer for an hour, an' I look back TWO SECONDS LATER! And they're golden BLACK!" Bob shouted, his southern accent getting thicker and thicker as his frustration grew more and more. He huffed angrily, pulling the second pan of seared cupcakes from the now fiery bowels of the oven. Fiery? "FIRE!"

Bob threw open the cabinet beneath the sink in a panicked flurry, snatching the extinguisher, and sprayed it into the metal cavern that had cursed his poor cupcakes. The flames choked, smothering under the chemical powder until they eventually petered out. 

"Good Lord, this is hard!" He huffed leaning back onto the counter where the smoldering sweets sat in their pans. Bob leapt forward after burning his elbow on the tin. "And a disaster..." he muttered in defeat.

With that, Bob pulled out his phone and dialed the bakery down the street from Boys & Grills. If he couldn't bake, he could always just order a batch. Plus simply ordering cupcakes was a lot easier to clean the kitchen after. Then it hit him.

"I HAVE TO CLEAN THE KITCHEN!"