Splattering Stories

We ran to the kitchen and he took it out of the oven, a little too late. I was laughing behind him, covering my mouth and nose as he coughed and waved the tablecloth to clear the smoke out. He turned around, nostrils flaring, eyebrows scrunching together, and through gritted teeth, he barked, “Why are you laughing?” The frustration in his rumbling voice was ominous, like a subdued thunder. “I am really hungry!” He bent me...