08

A crust-less quiche was placed upon the long buffet table. 

Cole had been too tired to make a crust - all that flour and kneading and flattening and whatnot - it was all just too much work. The filling, on the other hand, was a quick twenty-minute thing.

It was good enough for the school potluck, anyway. Healthy and delicious - eggs and spinach and mushroom and cheese. What more would they want? 

"Cheese?" Cindy, a fellow PTA parent asked, scrunching her nose. "We have lactose-intolerant students, Cole. Are you serious? I mean - what are you going to do if one of the kids has a bad reaction to the food, Cole?"

Clearly, her world was crumbling. 

So, Cole decided to ensure his addition to the potluck was a little less deadly. He grabbed one of the fifty-odd sign-up sheets scattered around the table, flipped it on its back, and wrote in big, dark letters: INCLUDES DAIRY. He folded the paper and placed it near his dish, so that it was clearly visible to all passers-by.

"There we are, Cindy," he said, patting Cindy on the shoulder. "Now we don't need to worry about anybody dying today, Cindy."

Cindy looked like she was about to explode, so he caught the first parent he knew and slipped away. "Hey, Tom! It's been too long. How have you been, man?"

Minutes later, when he glanced at the buffet table, he noticed that someone - probably Cindy - had moved his dish so that it was at the very end of the table, and at the very back. That way, less people would be likely to try it. But she'd kept his sign, so that was something, at least. 

I guess I'll have dinner already made tonight, at least. He liked to think that, given how much his wife had despised Cindy and her PTA drones, she would have enjoyed his little win today.

Though he knew for certain that Cindy would have some kind of punishment waiting for him at the next PTA meeting. Voluntelling him to do this or that, or firmly suggesting him for some mind-numbingly boring school activity. He didn't mind. He's promised Lynn he would be all-in with this school stuff - for their son. And it wasn't like he had a job he had to get to anymore.

So, bring it on, Cindy. Bring it on.