Untitled Prototype Housewife Story

chapter 1

Jenny dusted her way across the shelves of the house, a sense of boredom written about her every sway of the duster mixed with the nostalgia of happy memories in each frame.

That awkward moment at the doughnut shop when they first met, the walks in the park where they gradually learned more about each other until Chet proposed, the beautiful wedding and the delicious carrot cake they had there.

Though now she was at home and Chet was out at work managing mergers and acquisitions for some firm in the industrial sector of the city, whilst she was keeping the house company here in the suburbs.

Turns out, houses aren't the best company, they don't talk to you and tell you about their sister being in a relationship after breaking up with Brad and you don't get to say back how you think she's moved on rather quickly whilst subtly implying how much of a slut she is, but houses don't pick up on subtext or context for that matter.

In fact, they don't say anything at all to build a conversation with and instead Jenny finds herself watching the same old reruns of TV shows on cable and seeing the occasional movie. Neither of which helped combat the fact that Jenny had nothing to truly dedicate her time to.

She watched behind the scenes documentaries of movies and somewhat longed for the idea of a project to work on , maybe not as huge a film but certainly some creative but she just wasn't sure that was the world for her.

In desperation for something different to happen in her life she suddenly remembered, Chet had brought home something that was rather intriguing. Something akin to salt that Chet got as a gift for assisting in an acquisition of a food processing company.

She was told that this would taste similar to salt but wouldn't quite be the same and that she might enjoy it more and while she was cautious in trying it out she decided that now was a good of time as any to taste it.

According to the instructions she should just make something that would use salt and use this instead, so she decided on something simple and fitting for the time of day which would be time for breakfast, a dish she learned from her southern cousins, white gravy.

She melted butter in her frying pan and added the flour and black pepper as the recipe called for but instead of salt she used the packet and then, when it was ready, she added in the milk and whisked it in. So far so good as the gravy was nice and fluffy instead of runny (good thing she used the southern flour her cousins gave her too).

Given she tried this before and knew that you needed to add more salt and pepper afterwards she added more of the seasoning and some pepper, now she was ready to take a bite of her concoction. Honestly, she wanted to wait until the biscuits were done first but she needed to know if this would all be for naught.

She scooped some onto her spoon, blew it lightly to cool it, inserted the spoon into her mouth and let the substance slide onto her tongue.

Jenny found herself in pure bliss, this was the greatest thing she ever tasted, she wanted more, and so she went a little crazy. she ate the entire batch of gravy that she thought she'd be pouring out and all 12 of the biscuits she made even after she thought she'd made too many.

Even after eating so much she didn't feel the usual sensation that she would from being full but instead a different and strange sensation. As she placed her plate in the sink she wondered what was in the "mystery salt". Did it do something to her, or was this perfectly fine?

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her doorbell. "It better not be that salesman." said Jenny under her breath, but it turns out she was wrong. At the door was a woman of about Jenny's age, late 20s, and was asking for a Mr. Alan Scarborough.

"I'm sorry, this is the Carbuncle residence" Jenny told the clearly confused woman.

"Oh, well, I saw him the other day entering this house, did he spend the night here perhaps?" asked the woman who seemed certain of her statement.

"I'm sorry but the only man who's slept here in my husband."

The woman somewhat ignored Jenny as she took notice of the picture by the door of her and Chet together. "That's him!" she said after squinting to examine the photo.

"What?!"

"This is Alan! I know it is. The man in this picture is Alan."

Jenny didn't know how to to respond, Chet's middle name was Brad but this woman was adamant. Jenny tried to save face. "I'm sorry, that's my husband Chet, maybe they look similar."

"You don't understand, this is Alan, I've known him my whole life. He was my brother."

Jenny realized something she wasn't aware of before about the woman, she was NOT in her late 20s, more her late 30s but her makeup was helping her out greatly, noticing this fact didn't help Jenny in trying to make sense of this situation. She asked the only question in her mind, "Was?"

"Yes, Alan supposedly died last year, but the funeral was quite rushed and I never saw the body, then I learned of his whole Masahiro Sakaguchi stunt."

"His what?!"

"Oh, you might want to sit down, I've got a story to tell you my dear."