Pre-apocalyptic Chicken Dinner
I sit in my bed, laptop on lap waiting for the timer to buzz to alert me the roast chicken dinner I so lovingly prepared is ready. It's a Sunday night so my sleepy little town is very quiet this evening. My bedroom door is propped open so I can hear the sounds of the house downstairs. My teenager helped in the making of this bird. They prepared the herb butter and cut the mini potatoes. The smells wafting into my room are heavenly. Instead of the buzzer I'm startled by a series of explosions. I listen intently to discern what the booms are about. They are not fireworks. Never having heard dynamite, other than movie explosions, I have no real gauge to put these explosions on a spectrum. The house begins to shimmy. I call my kid. "Neptune!" They enter the room. "Yes mum." "Did you hear those explosions?" "Yeah! What was it?" "I don't know." I instruct them to put their shoes on. "Okay." My kid knows me. When I...