C♥♥King Class

How did I meet my wife? Sit a spell, and I'll tell you.

Well, it's a simple story. I was taking a cooking class and doing very well, too. Then, one day, the chef told the class there would be a new student. That's when she walked in.

I started to simmer. She took the station next to mine, and I couldn't believe how hot I got... my hand was on the stovetop. She laughed at my mistake, and I think she knew she had my brain blended.

The chef assigned us to make a cake. I tried to focus, but she smelled so good... or at least her cake did. I was a mess; every time I looked at her, I broke my egg yolks. Whew, I was a mess. I worked so hard to make my cake and impress her. I sifted, mixed, beat, and had all the flair of a professional chef on TV... or so I thought. After all my showmanship, my cake batter was awful. I had flour everywhere, and I'm pretty sure I used salt instead of sugar.

Well, I am known for being quick on my feet. I "accidentally" dropped it on the way to the oven. She laughed and helped me clean up my mess. She poured her batter into two smaller pans and baked us both a cake. Well, sharp as I am, I knew that was my in.

So, while the cakes baked, I pitched all the woo a woo-slinger could sling. Let me tell you, I've got mad woo-slinging skills... okay, maybe not. I may have all the charm and style of a squash, but I had her attention anyway. She seemed to enjoy my constant rambling. Soon, the cake was done. Thanks to her kindness, I passed the class.

Seven years later, we are still cooking together. She is just as hot as the day I first saw her. I may be nobody's idea of a good cook, but I'm the chef of her heart. Don't worry; she loves me very much, but she keeps me out of the kitchen. I cook elsewhere... the bedroom... ah, I mean the grill.