The stress of Kitchen Magic

For the previous edition, see Wednesday's post.

Bizzy swore under her breath. Shoving her mother into the wall, she rushed by her and thundered into the kitchen. Her father was standing there with an incredulous look on his face. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Bizzy whirled around to explain. Her jaw hit the ground and the words stuck in her throat.

Sprinkles was smirking, perched on top of a perfectly golden roasted chicken. A bowl of mashed potatoes sat on the stove top next to a roasted corn salad. The oven chimed and Sprinkles pointed to a drawer on the left of the stove. As if in a dream, Bizzy stepped forward and pulled the drawer open. She took out a pot holder and opened the oven door. A loaf of golden cornbread lay inside, the rich buttery smell making her mouth water. She pulled it out and placed it on the stove, giving Sprinkles a look that spoke what she couldn't say.

"It's magic, baby," Sprinkled said with a sly smile. Bizzy gasped and immediately looked at her father. His face wrinkled in concern.

"Did you burn yourself?" he asked, stepping forward.

Bizzy's mother stepped into the kitchen and gasped. "Darling, how wonderful!" she cried, clapping her hands together. "I can't believe you cooked this!"

"I can't either," Bizzy replied honestly. She looked at her father. His ears had turned pink with pleasure and his fuzzy eyebrows were dancing along his hairline.

"Bizzy, I have to be honest, I thought this was going to be a terrible Thanksgiving," her Dad said, licking his lips as he looked at the kitchen. "I thought it was going to taste like cardboard." Sprinkles fell off the roasted chicken into the mashed potatoes, kicking her legs as she shrieked with laughter. Bizzy narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms as Sprinkles sank lower and lower in the potatoes.

"You must REALLY be bad," she cried, wiping her eyes. "That's pretty bad for your daddy to say that."

"Shut up," Bizzy muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" her mother asked, cocking her head.

"I said, 'Let's eat up," Bizzy said, trying to smile. "Why don't you call whoever is here and we'll have dinner?"

"Wonderful idea, darling," her mother beamed, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She held it up to the light and squinted. "The signal is terrible. I'll go outside to call."

"I'll go with you," her dad said. "I've got to get the bags." He paused in the doorway, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "Really, Biz, I'm impressed. This is amazing."

"Thanks, Dad," Bizzy replied, blushing at his wink. The warm feelings winging through her were ruined by Sprinkles' maniacal laughter from the mashed potatoes. She waited until the door shut and whirled around, glaring at the fairy.

"What is wrong with you?" she cried. "Why are you just sitting there talking and giggling like a madwoman?"

"What is wrong with me?" Sprinkles glared at her and put her potato covered hands on her hips. "I just saved your grits with a gorgeous dinner. What's your problem? They can't see me, nor hear me."

Bizzy sighed with relief. "Really?"

"What part of magic don't you get?" Sprinkles asked. "Does this concept not compute with you?"

Bizzy ignored her and rubbed her hands together. "This is brilliant!" she whispered. "I don't know why I never thought of it before!"

"What?" Sprinkles hopped out of the bowl, looking alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

"You can cook Thanksgiving dinner!" Bizzy informed her. "It'll be great!"

Sprinkles threw her head back with a snort. "You wish."

Bizzy's face collapsed from a smile into a look of utter despair. "What do you mean? It's so easy for you!"

Sprinkles shook her head. "It's not about me. It's about what's good for you."

"What's good for me is surviving this dinner," Bizzy snapped. "Do you know how crazy my family is?"

"No," Sprinkles said with a grin. "They can't be worse than you."

"Shut up."

"Here's the thing, Bizzy-O," Sprinkles said, sloughing potatoes off her arms and wings. "I help inept kitchen folks like you. It's what I do. So you're going to learn to cook, and you're going to make the Thanksgiving dinner for your folks without any help from me."

"Any help?" Bizzy swallowed hard.

"Any magic help." Sprinkles grinned. "Doesn't this sound like fun?"

As the front door opened again, Bizzy thought she'd hit her knees and cry.

This was the stupidest thing she had ever done.

To be continued....