Lyle and Marina stood at Scott’s door. Lyle adjusted the package in his hand and rang the doorbell.
“Do you have any idea what he’s planning to serve for dinner?” Marina asked as they waited for the door to open.
“No,” Lyle replied. “He didn’t say. I hope the side dishes we brought are ok.”
“And the bottle of wine,” she said, holding up the brown bag in her hand. “It’s hard to pick out an appropriate wine to go with a meal if you don’t what is being served.”
The door opened and their friend Scott greeted them with a “You rang?” like Lurch from The Addams Family. When they didn’t laugh, he just shrugged and gave them a big smile instead. “Thanks for coming, guys. You’re just in time. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”
“Great! Thanks for inviting us. We brought some side dishes and some wine. I hope they’ll be ok.”
“Thanks. I’m sure they’ll go just fine.”
“So, what are we having?” Marina asked.
“It’s a secret,” Scott said with a wink and a grin.
“Smells like a ham,” Lyle said.
Scott frowned. “Oh, shoot. You guessed it.”
“I wasn’t referring to dinner.”
Scott stuck out his tongue. “Well, anyway, don’t just stand there,” he said, and grinned again and stepped aside and, with a flourishing sweep of his arm and a short bow, said, “Won’t you come in?” in a mock butler’s voice.
Lyle rolled his eyes and entered the house with Marina one step behind. Scott shut the door behind them. “Walk this way,” Scott said in imitation of Lurch, and he led them into the dining room.
While Lyle and Marina arranged the side dishes and wine on the table and seated themselves, Scott went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned and, with as much pomp and circumstance as he could muster, he set a beautiful, large glazed ham on the table.
“This ham,” Scott said with a wide grin as he held the carving knife and fork at the ready, “is the best ham. There has never been such a ham..”
“You got that right,” Lyle said.
“Ha ha. Well, then, without further ado, le..le..le..let’s eat!”
As Lyle and Marina groaned at the Porky Pig imitation, Scott began slicing the ham.
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “ham”:
Jeanne Owens, author 