Day 35: Grown-Up Macaroni And Cheese...

It’s been a rough week, and though I want to share, I doubt any of you will believe me.  It all started with a knock on my door.  The entrance was too dark to see who stood there, and that was my first mistake.  I opened the door.  What was revealed in shadowed glory were a trio of cowboy hat wearing, denim clad Cro-Magnon's!  The furrowed brows, stubbly cheeks, and brown tobacco stains on their chins could only mean one thing.  I had members of the Ozark chapter of Alabama Terrorists on my doorstep.  Don’t believe me?  Never heard of them?  Well the rumor is, is they left the KKK to make their own group because they felt the Clan was too mainstream.

I tried to slam the door, but an elephant sized foot blocked the way.  Dashing upstairs, I headed for the back door, which wasn’t really a back door, because it opens to my deck, where I fell the ten feet to the ground.  I hopped the fence, and was on my way.  Armed with pick-up trucks, shotguns, and hunting dogs, they chased me down.  I tried my best, but I wasn’t able to get away.  They interrogated me for hours in a nearby shed, and try as I might, I couldn’t last.  No matter how tough you are, in time, everyone breaks under torture.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but I gave in to the terrorist’s demands.  I may never forgive myself, but I did it.  I wrote them a recipe for macaroni and cheese...