Making our favorite meal from our youth must mean something.“Get a room,” my father’s voice said coming from behind me.“Hey Jeffrey,” I said...to give him grief.“Has something happened to calling me, Dad?” he said, walking past us.“Nothing specific, you know us kids need to be as outlandish as possible, Mr. King?”“RK has a girlfriend,” my sister said, using her pet name for me.“Anybody we know?” my mother asked, still joined front to front with me.I very inconveniently jerked again, that she must. It was Marguerite Mayfair. I recognized her from a drawing on the internet also.“I want her to remove the curse she put on my wives 160 plus years ago,” I told the new arrival.“And why would my niece do that?” Marguerite asked, sarcastically.“Because I asked her to nicely,” I told them, just before they all began laughing. “If she refuses, I’ll change her into one of the small eels that live in the mud and eat shit in the freshwater swamps for the next thousand years,” I added in a louder. More

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