The hibachi wasn’t the problem. Karen had lived with cooking her meals some five years on the hibachi that worked great. What most people including her family didn’t know was that she lived a secret life. Deep down inside somewhere Karen is an anarchist. This wasn’t much of a problem, she knew the rules and played by them like the book. What comes to mind and where the problem is. That book her aunt gave her some four years ago. The one entitled: “A young woman’s primmer on becoming a lady” just the thought of such a book in her present state of mind was enough to send rage down every vein in her body. Karen was the kind of woman that rode motorcycles. Carried a single edged knife in her front pocket. And generally caused trouble for people who weren’t intellectually armed.
The thought of the book her aunt gave her seems to always make her mad. Her real friends come over and see the book which always gives them something to poke fun at her about. Today has seen it’s last beam of light. Karen looks through her bookshelf at the books that she is proud to have bought and own. About a hundred books from notable authors. Yet the one that grated her nerves she had put under the sofa in the hopes it would simply disappear. Today she was cooking prime rib. And then she was most defiantly going to cook her book in revelry.
Twenty minutes later the prime rib was fully cooked and turned out nicely. She wondered if she felt like eating first and then turning the heat up to sear the pages of the books she hated most. She figured her appetite would be best if she cooked the book first and ate second. Might even make the prime rib taste better she thought.