HIDE THE EVIDENCE!

***

I don’t want to brag, but it is a fact that I am the undisputed master of the outdoor grill! However, because it was only the fast-acting emergency response of the fire department that prevented our neighborhood from burning to the ground (the result of my most recent cookout), my wife strongly disagrees with such an upbeat personal assessment of my cooking skills.

But that does not concern me. She tends to focus on the negative.

So, over the weekend, I decided to put my consummate culinary capabilities to good use on some delectable baby back ribs. YUM!

After donning an oversized chef’s hat and my favorite apron (the one adorned with whimsical cartoon turkeys), I went to the refrigerator to get the spicy-hot, hickory-infused barbecue sauce. But to my horror, it was not there! After spending a full three seconds frantically searching every corner of the fridge for the irreplaceable condiment, I gave up in total despair.

As you can imagine, the last thing I wanted to do was drive to the store and fight the crowds on a Saturday just to buy one thing. Therefore, my only option was to childishly whine and complain to my spouse.

Wanting to get my money’s worth, I raced into the living room, where the love of my life sat on the couch reading. Overwhelmed with crushing disappointment, I bellowed, “There is NO BARBECUE SAUCE!!!”

Without looking up from her book, my long-suffering bride replied, “I bought the barbecue sauce a week ago. I used a small amount in the baked beans the other night. The bottle is almost full, and it’s in the fridge.”

“NO, it is NOT! I looked FOREVER, and it’s not in there!”

Calmly turning a page, she answered, “Yes, it is. Did you bother to move stuff and really look?”

Offended by such a crass accusation, I responded with self-righteous indignation, “Of course I did!” (In other words, I lied.)

Unfortunately, decades of marriage had clearly demonstrated that I was habitually prone to making SLIGHT exaggerations, so my wife had grave reservations about how hard I had actually searched for the item in question. Still reading, she sighed and said, “I believe it is on the second shelf on the right. Why don’t you check again.”

“I’M TELLING YOU, IT’S NOT THERE! Will you at least make some homemade barbecue sauce?”

“I don’t need to. We have almost a full bottle. Just look carefully, and I’m sure you’ll find it.”

But at that moment, before I could protest further, my spouse looked up from her novel and stared with disdain at my festive hat and apron ensemble. Then, unable to resist the temptation to make a cruel and insensitive remark, she offered her unsolicited opinion, “By the way, you look ridiculous in that get-up.”

Furious and famished, I turned and stormed out of the room.

Still pouting because there would be no delectable baby back ribs in my immediate future, I returned to the refrigerator to get a cold drink to soothe my anguish. Opening the door, I had to move a container of cottage cheese and a jar of salsa to get to the drinks. As I reached in, I tilted my head, and there to the right on the second shelf was the large bottle of spicy-hot, hickory-infused barbecue sauce exactly where my bride said it would be! Needless to say, I could not believe my eyes.

Looking around to make sure I was alone, I retrieved the bottle and opened it to see how much was gone. Just as I had been told, it was practically full.

I cannot tell you how annoying it is the way my wife always makes me look bad.

Because my spouse is convinced that I cannot find something when it’s right in front of my face, I did NOT want to give her the pleasure of knowing that, once again, she was right. I quickly realized that the preferred course of action was to sneak the bottle outside and throw it in the trash before YOU KNOW WHO could once again put me in my place (which just happens to be my least favorite place).

But, regrettably, my clever plan immediately backfired. I didn’t realize I had not securely replaced the cap on the bottle, and because I carried it upside down, it dripped all through the kitchen and out the back door. When I say dripped, it was actually plopping out in great globs. Proud that, at my age, I could still move with the stealth of a ninja, I was blissfully unaware of the tell-tale trail I was leaving behind.

After I tossed away the incriminating evidence, I confidently strolled back into the kitchen to wash up, only to be confronted by a heart-stopping spectacle that was, in a word, SHOCKING! There, in the middle of the room, stood our dog sloppily slurping up splashes of the spicy-hot, hickory-infused barbecue sauce.

Gasping, I stared in disbelief until I was suddenly snapped back to reality by the ill-timed arrival of………. MY WIFE.

Slowly, an ominous stillness settled over the kitchen, and the only sound that could be heard was our hungry hound eagerly devouring the delicious delight on the kitchen floor that had mysteriously appeared like manna from heaven. Although I did not dare glance up at my spouse, I could feel her narrowed eyes boring into me.

We stood frozen in time, neither one of us moving, until, finally, my bride, with smug satisfaction dripping from her voice, stated the obvious, “Well, well. It appears you found the barbecue sauce after all.”

No stranger to my partner’s sarcasm, I have learned from many such uncomfortable situations that knowing when to concede is the hallmark of a reasonable, level-headed, mature adult. Plus, when the family pet is loudly lapping up the evidence that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were dead wrong, it’s best to just accept defeat and move on to the next battle.

But, sadly, that is not where the story ends.

Over the next 18 hours, the spicy-hot, hickory-infused barbecue sauce gave our poor pooch what my wife euphemistically referred to as “loose stools” but, without going into gruesome detail, could be more accurately described as EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA!

I will give you one guess WHO got to clean that up.