This is the first in a series of posts I hope to bring to you once a month—on the 1st Monday of the month, schedule permitting.

The title of the post should pretty much cover it, but I’ll explain anyway.

Once a month, I shall post a scenario. A ‘what if’ scenario.

Some may be sensible (yes, I can be sensible), some may be middle of the road, and some may be so far off the wall you’ll wonder if I’ve lost my mind.

Then all you have to do is imagine it is YOURSELF in the scenario and leave a comment detailing what YOU would do. Not written as a character. But written as yourself.

It’s not hard. We all read crazy novels. We all get lost in the scenes. We all have the ability to picture ourselves there besides the characters we love, yes? This is no different.

Okay? Ready?

Here’s your first scenario:

You’ve been to the market to purchase the ingredients for Coq au Vin (people who are crap at cooking, feel free to use artistic license and pretend that you aren’t). Everyone (who can cook) knows that the dish tastes best if you go fresh, but the geezer you usually buy your herbs off is wrapped up in bed with a cold (according to the wart-nosed banana seller on the stall next door), so you strolled around until you stumbled across a new vendor—with rock bottom prices, which meant you went home a happy bunny.

You’ve browned your chicken. Your shallots and mushrooms are in. The wine is stinking the house out like a vinegar factory. And the time has arrived to add those flavoursome plants that you’ve chopped to within an inch of their greenness and bundled into a muslin sack that puss-in-boots would approve of …

But the second they hit the pot, merge with the liquid, steam spirals up like a rouged transparent corkscrew, mushrooming as it hits the ceiling. Before you can say now-there’s-something-you-don’t-see-every-day-crikey-what-the-hell-was-in-those-herbs, the entire kitchen is consumed by billowy plumes, leaving you blind to all but the pot into which you are staring as though you’ve never seen the darn thing before in your life.

I’d imagine a little “What the heck?” might ensue right before the stir of your wooden spoon has the opposite effect and every ounce of fog is sucked right back into the herbed pouch like you’ve hit the button on rewind.

As you lift your head in a ‘Huh?!?!?!’ kinda moment, a huge shadow eclipses with enough bulk to land in your right periphery … and you just know that someone (or something) is standing behind you …

So … what do you do?


6 thoughts on “THE ‘WHAT IF’ GAME! #1

  1. I quickly grab my iPhone and look up the word Coq, which is French for rooster, or ‘cock’ as we say here in the States.  It seems those delightful little herbs turned my would-be dinner into something more of a feast.  I turn to face the towering beast and notice muscles bulging in places I hadn’t thought were made of muscle.  His eyes, a scintillating blue, leer at me as though I had just served myself on a platter…his intent, I’m guessing, to devour me whole.  A crooked smile skates across his face while he lurches forward, backing me against the countertop.  I’m flush with heat, and certain it’s not from the oven.  I brace my hand against the cold granite; he crowds my body, dragging his finger across my cheek.  A wake of electricity pulses through my skin.  Grabbing my jaw, he gently tips my head back, exposing my vulnerable neck.  My stomach flutters and my pulse quickens.  His lips glide, light as a feather, against my throat.  A shiver leaves me covered in goosebumps.  He releases his grip of my face. A glimpse of his devious grin tells me he’s enjoying his effect on me. Reaching beneath my sundress, his hands settle on the back of my thighs and he lifts me onto the counter.  I straddle his waist.  My lips part as hastening breaths escape me.  I’m nearly eye to eye with him and can see desire smoldering behind the blue.  He leans in to kiss me.  I close my eyes…  


    I turn abruptly, expecting a SWAT team to burst through the kitchen door.  It’s the oven, alerting me that the damn thing has finally preheated.  I turn back toward my mystery man.  He’s disappeared.  What the hell?!  Glancing down at myself, still perched on the countertop, I shake my head in confusion.  What just happened?  The pot on the burner continues to boil; billowing steam rises eerily toward the ceiling and dissipates like a taunting smile.  A dream?  I’m not sure.  All I know is, I need to stock up on more of those herbs.

    Lol!  That was fun!  In need of edits, but fun 🙂

  2. I pick up the iron skillet with both hands, my heart beating so fast it feels like it’s going to skip right out of my chest. I whip around, both hands on the handle, and strike the beast right in the head. He goes down. Wham! He hits the floor hard. I look down. I can’t believe my eyes. Oh my God! What have I done! I drop the frying pan and the weight of the pan cracks the tile. I don’t care. I just whacked my hubby on the head. Crap, crap! I kneel down, cradle his head in my hands and kiss him all over.

    “Phillip. Oh, heavens, Phillip please wake up. I’m so sorry.” Tears are melting down my face, dripping onto his lips. “Phone, where’s my phone?” My fingers search the counter. Ahh, there it is. I dial 9-1-1 but my phone goes dead. From the stove, the mist starts to rise again, swirling like a tornado out of control. I feel movement beside me. I turn to embrace my man, but it’s not him. Philip’s…he’s changing…I can’t move. He rises from the floor, an enormous, naked being. I’m in shock. The tornado of herbs swirls around my head. Oh, oh, he’s walking toward me. A scoot backwards. He falls to his knees and captures me in his hands. I push on his chiseled chest, but he’s captured me with his muscular legs, holding me in his spell with his peridot starburst eyes.

    “Do you still wish to get away?” he asks, his soft lips brushing my neck, behind my ear. I can feel every part of him on my, pressing me to the floor, his hands searching. Oh, magical basil, thyme, sage, oh my!

    I shake my head. He lifts my arms over my head. He rips my blouse. I hear a groan…my groan. I feel the handle of the iron skillet. It’s so close. I wrap my fingers around it, but…but…oh, his lips are exploring, moving, his hands have removed my protective layer of clothing. When did that happen? Who care. Oh…oh…his skin…so hot…I wrap my arms around him, my fingernails in his skin. Yes, take me, take me…

    “Honey?” My husband’s voice calls to me. No. Go away! I open my eyes to someone shaking me. I look around. He’s gone. I stare into Phillip’s eyes.

    “What are you doing?” he asked. “Why are you naked and on the floor with a skillet in your hand?” He helped me up. “Are you all right?”

    I look around, getting my wits about me. “I-I was making Coq au Vin, but then the smoke started and you were…but, but it wasn’t you…and then…”

    Phillip put his shirt around me and pecked me on the forehead. “Really darling, if these delusions keep up, you really should see a doctor. Well, I’m going back to watching the game on the telly.” He grabs a beer out of the frig. “Let me know if you need anything.”

    I bundle up under his shirt. Oh I need something buddy, I say to myself, but it won’t be from you. I turn back to the stove and stir my herbs. Come on, herbs, do your thing. Unleash the beast.

    I throw in the rest of the herbs. The steam starts to rise. My heart races and the shirt falls to the floor. “Come on, mister. Show me what you’ve got.”

    I smile.

    okay. I haven’t written anything like that in a long time. thanks. Now I have to find my beast. 😉

    1. OMG! These are THE most entertaining responses I have EVER had on my blog. hehehehehehehehehe.

      Maybe I should have put an X rating on this post. *snort*

  3. I slowly turn my head to the side until I see a shoulder. A shoulder connected to a very large handsome man. A shirtless, large hadnsome man. As I turn to face him he reaches out to me. I start to back up only to realize I’m traped by the stove.
    “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what the hell happened, but you need to get the hell out of my kitchen NOW” I tell him firmly.
    Actually it comes out”Lllllmmmmnnnm,” since he kissed me right as I started talking. And he seemed to be exceptionally good at it. his were gentle on my shoulders as he held me close, but his lips were hot and demanding. I all but melted as he took his time, his tongue tangling with mine. He tasted wonderful, all manly goodnes.
    I pulled back, “Wait, you have to tell me who you are and how you magicked(?) yourself into my kitchen through a locked door?”
    He smiled at me, bemused. “I’m your love slave. You called me.” He gestured to the pot on the stove. Before I could ask him to clarify, he kissed me again. As he tightened his hold on me I realized he was completely naked. In my kitchen! no naked in the kitchen. It was one of my rules, right there under “no roller skates on the stairs, always smell the milk before drinking, and no tequila on work nights”.
    Of course, I didn’t really mind so much after a minute. God, he was good at that. I felt a breeze and realized he had somehow taken off my shirt without my knowing.
    “Stop!” I said, twisting away from him.” You need to go back to where you came from. i’m having dinner guests in like 20 min! You cannot be here!”
    He reached for me again only to have me slap his hand away. “But, I cant leave yet, angel. I don’t disappear until you are completely satisfied.” He smirked at me, his dimple showing. “And trust me, you will be satisfied.”
    Arrogant jerks always bring out the worst in me. “I havent been impressed so far”, I shot back.
    Next thing I know, I’m leaning back over the counter while he is kissing me, his whole body pressed against me. His chest is warm and firm against my shirtless front. I’m kissing him back with everything i’ver got when…
    “Oh my God, James! Shes getting naked with a man! In the kitchen!” my mother screeches as she barrels inside.
    “Mother!” I gasp as I push myself upright, turning to hide his nakedness from my parents. “You are early!”
    My dad strolls in, calm and cool, walks over and extends a hand to the naked stranger. “I’m James,the father of that lovely young lady you are hiding behind” They shake hands while i stand ther mortified. There is just no way to explain this away. i’m going to just die od embarrassment. Yep, any second now.
    My mom rushes off and returns with a towel. she hands it to my mysterious visitor. He winks at me as he walks towards my bedroom door. “Be right back, angel.”
    My dad waqnts to know wehen dinner is ready. My mom is glaring at me. “That is SO unsanitary!” She hisses at me as she shrugs out of her coat. “No nakedness in the kitchen!”

  4. ” It was one of my rules, right there under “no roller skates on the stairs, always smell the milk before drinking, and no tequila on work nights”.” hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. I giggled all the way through this, hehehehehehe. 😛

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