Deviled Eggs

I was inspired early in the morning to write two different stories based on this title. The other can be found here.

Deviled Eggs

By

William DeGeest

Title by Ashely Schaaf Botha

The potluck at the VFW was already filling up by the time Ann arrived. Kids were chasing each other outside and a few adults were clustered in small groups, chatting away. Ann grabbed a big covered plastic tub out of the back seat of her car as Mac came over to help.

“These your deviled eggs, Annie?” he said.

“You bet, Mac. Go ahead and grab some of that Tupperware and take it inside.” Ann hadn’t owned an actual piece of Tupperware in years, but every plastic container was called that by most people in these parts.

Mac helped carry in the eggs and as a reward was given an advance egg that he could not resist.

“Best deviled eggs around, as usual.” Mac smiled as he finished chewing up his treat.

Betty called out Ann’s name and the two embraced then set about the task of lining up the food on the tables. Four different casseroles in baking dishes, five slow cookers full of various, often cheesy goodness, five different pasta salads, four flavors of jello salad and various cakes, bars and brownies for dessert. Deb brought a big roaster full of hamburger and macaroni with tomatoes. She called it hot-dish. Minnesota gal.

The typical conversations could be heard in the hall. Farming and hunting. Racing and football. Many people looked at the food and pointed, devising their strategy for their gastronomical adventure. People who saw each other on almost a daily basis greeted each other as long lost friends. Hugs and backslaps and offers of beverages of all kinds. Maybe even a nip of the hard stuff here and there.

When it looked like most of the food was set out, the line started to form to wait for their Styrofoam plates and plastic cutlery. The go was given and people started to dig in. Betty wiped her brow in mock exasperation and Ann smiled and chuckled. It was a good night.

The compliments started to flow before people even made it to their seats.

“Oh, that is good”

“Just a little garlic. Love it.”

“This may turn into an unbuckling situation before too long.”

Ann’s deviled eggs, as always, were snatched up as fast as they were set out. Her reputation grew.

Laughter and happy voices filled the room. A belch or two, followed by an excuse me could be heard. Betty was setting out a fresh plate of cut carrots, celery and cucumbers when she heard it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh no.

The phrase that can be the downfall of any gathering. “No,” Betty thought. “Not tonight, please.”

But it was too late. It had begun.

Arguments started to erupt across the room. The silliest things were debated with the seriousness of a murder trial. Old perceived slights were brought up after years of festering. The Olson’s three year old smacked the Roger’s four year old in the head.

Offers to step outside were made. A few people who remained cool headed tried to diffuse situations. Just when it seemed to start to calm down, Gloria Edwards insulted Pat Shumer’s green bean casserole. There was no going back.

Ann made her way out the side door as the yelling, cursing and tears began to build in the hall. She would come back tomorrow to see what damage had been done and retrieve her containers.

She got in her car and rested her head on the steering wheel. Her index finger on her left hand throbbed under the bandage that hid the cut she had made while preparing the deviled eggs. She rubbed it on her jeans as she leaned back from the wheel with a huge grin on her face. The blood was needed to complete the agitation spell she had cast on her famous appetizer.

“God, I hate those people,” she said aloud, “but they sure are fun to mess with.”