Annie CLXIII: Propitiation



(Chronological index: A few days before Annie II: A New Friend)

Ray finished checking the pantry and sat down with the shopping checklist. He had ingredients for the recipes for the week listed, the staples identified, and the emergency power-lost-to-the-house rations updated for the night spent eating Pop Tarts.

He didn’t ask Annie if she wanted anything. She felt that a shopping checklist took all the adventure out of shopping.

But Ray had no qualms, because if it was raining cats and dogs when he discovered they needed something for dinner, she just stayed inside while he ran to the store.

He was reviewing the candy stockpile levels when the fire alarm went off.

A screeching noise filled the house, drowning out any possible conversation, especially involving a sylph.

Ray’s first thought was Annie’s location. He wouldn’t be able to hear her shout for help over the din.

His second thought was to wonder what she’d set on fire, and if it was an accident or in protest.

He grabbed a chair and ran to the hall, climbing up to unplug the alarm. When that was silenced, he noted the smell of smoke.

He followed that to the kitchen. Smoke was billowing from the front of the toaster oven.

Annie lay prone before the oven, face down on the counter.

Ray stepped deliberately to the counter and unplugged the oven. He reached over to open the kitchen door to let some smoke out and fresh air in.

Then he took ponderous steps to Annie’s location. Thud. Thud. Thud. With great care he lowered the smoke alarm to the counter to one side of the sylph. Ta-click. Then he placed the battery to her other side. Click.

They were there for a moment, no one moving (and more importantly, no one giggling). He cracked the front of the toaster oven to speed the desmoking.

“Talk,” he said.

“The gods of dinner require a sacrifice!” Annie cried.

“I was just about to go shopping,” he pointed out.

“And now I have ensured that the hunt shall be successful,” Annie said, rolling to her back and smiling up at her owner. “And the gathering shall be plenteous. And the harvest shall be abundant!”

“It’s payday!” Ray spat. “We don’t need the help of the gods of dinner!” He winced as soon as he spoke. Should have gone with the ‘no such thing as gods,’ instead of playing into her illusion.

He sniffed to note how fast the smoke was dispelling. As the panic was over, he had the leisure to actually smell the smoke.

“What the fuck did you sacrifice?” he asked.

Annie gave herself another point. He said ‘sacrifice’ instead of ‘waste.’ He’d be singing paens to the dinner gods any day now.

“Chocolate covered expresso beans,” she said.

“There’s no x in espresso,” he replied immediately.

“Well, these beans aren’t espresso any more,” she pointed out. “So they’re-“

“Ex-espresso,” they said together. He shook his head. “These are from the stash Jenny left, I take it?”

Annie paused before replying. Ray reviewed his question. It seemed a simple yes/no… “Or was this the ENTIRE stash Jenny left?” “Well, you won’t eat them and I can’t!” Annie defended.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t!”

“I was THERE, Master! You said ‘No!’ as in ‘Oh, my dinner god, no fucking way.’ I remember it clearly.”

“I didn’t say no,” Ray insisted. He stepped to the door and started to fan air out through the screen. “What I said was ‘not without filing an impact statement with the EPA. An Annie hopped upon espresso AND chocolate needs to be approached carefully. Roads closed, doors locked, supplies stockpiled.” He continued to mutter the preparations as he fanned.

Annie grabbed the lever and lowered the oven door. The pile of burnt remains on the square of aluminum foil resembled toasted sylph kibble.

She grabbed her special tongs and started to tug the foil sheet clear.

Gentle pressure on her hip pushed her to the side. Ray placed a plate under the rack and slid the foil onto it. “Why the foil?” he asked.

“If it dripped down to the bottom to burn,” she replied, in the tone of one talking to an especially dense Yankee, “then everything cooked within would taste of espresso until Saint Swithen’s Day.”

“Well, duh,” he agreed. He dumped the plate’s contents in the trash. The plate went into the sink. She watched carefully, trying to see if he was angry.

“So, you don’t really miss Jenny, do you?” she finally asked. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t mourn the last reminder of her in the house.

“I’m the one that told her to get out, Annie,” he sighed. “She was jamming me to play dolly.”

“I noticed,” Annie said with a slight shudder. Ray didn’t see it. He was looking at the sky.

Whatever he saw, he felt it safe to open a few windows and went around the house doing that.

Then he came back into the kitchen, car keys in one hand, shopping checklist in the other. “Come on,” he said.

“I, uh, was going to stay home,” she protested. He plucked her up and dropped her straight into a pocket.

“Nope. Windows are open. One layer of protection less between you and the predators of the great state of Florida.” He locked the door and got into the car.

“The screens are still in place!” she protested.

“Yes, but what if the neighborhood cats made a sacrifice to THEIR dinner gods?” he asked. She shut up as he pulled out into the street.

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