Blind Date A Book 2020 – Book #11
The material (chapter) in this post is copyrighted by the author and may not be used or copied in any way without the author’s permission.
Chapter 1
Lilac power-walked with the crock pot held to his chest. It had taken him twenty-three years, but he finally had his concoct. He didn’t know if he would win Grandmother Harry’s Silverbell Soup and Woodworking Award, but this had to be top ten. No. He would win. Had to. It was just that good. Until early this morning, he had never come close to finishing in the top three hundred.
But Lilac had to be careful. The concoct he was carrying was his only successful batch and he was very tired. He’d been up for eight days straight working on this—one slip and it would all be over for another year. Plus there was a werewolf chasing him.
Not a werewolf werewolf, but a soup werewolf. Lilac had heard Baker Call screaming from the apartment across from his. Baker had placed third last year and she was supposed to be entering again this year. Not now, though. As Lilac left his apartment he’d seen her lying in her open doorway, the remnants of what looked like tomato soup splashed on her torn shirt and legs. She had her hands to her face, crying as he’d quietly stepped over her.
Something had smelled like dog in there. Lilac hadn’t waited, but he was pretty sure it had been a soup werewolf. It was the only thing that had made sense, but he hadn’t slowed down to look. That would have allowed the smell of his concoct to waft into her apartment and if the soup werewolf were in there he’d come loping out and would no doubt gobble up Lilac’s dish too.
Lilac would die before he let that happen. He’d rigged enough C-4 to the bottom of his crock pot to take out a city block if anyone ate his concoct.
He wondered a moment if his soup really was good enough this year. Twenty-three years he’d been competing, twenty-three years he’d been losing. Maybe that soup werewolf would take one sniff of his concoct and turn his nose up at it. Lilac had a moment of self-doubt and his legs slowed almost to a stop. That was just slow enough for the polite police.
Officers Tom, Dick, and Nashwant were on his heels before Lilac could turn to see the soup werewolf wasn’t the one behind him. He was simultaneously relieved and frightened because while the polite police were well known for their good manners they were also known for their long spoons. Many a soup competitor had been derailed simply because they’d been eaten down to the dregs before competition. It was nearly impossible to refuse the polite police and suddenly the C-4 strapped to Lilac’s crock pot seemed like not such a good idea.
“G’d e’enin’,” Officer Tom said. Or maybe it had been Officer Dick. It couldn’t have been Officer Nashwant, he had a heavy accent. None of the three men’s lips had actually moved which really wouldn’t have helped Lilac anyway, considering he hadn’t turned to look at any of them. Instead, he held his crock pot closer to his chest, ignoring the intense heat of the ceramic dish as much as he could.
“‘Cha got dere?” one of them asked. It sounded like Tom from the way he was speaking in the key of C and Lilac didn’t like the hungry tone in his voice. Lilac held his crock pot with one hand while he fished into his fanny pack with the other. He found the corn muffin breadsticks he’d baked and began to unwrap the foil they were in. As Lilac walked he broke off pieces and dropped them onto the sidewalk. A moment later the three officers were chewing and smacking their lips.
“What dis eyus? Jalapenos?”
“Yes, and shredded cheese.” Lilac had made the muffins from a Jiffy mix, but had added shredded cheese and bits of jalapeño.
“That was very good,” Officer Nashwant said. It was so hard to understand him. Michigan accents always threw Lilac. “May we escort you to wherever you’re going?”
“No-no. I’m good,” Lilac said. He grabbed the crock pot with both hands and held it away from himself, certain his skin was blistered.
“Would you mind turning around?” Officer Nashwant said.
“I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Please? Pretty please?”
Lilac slowed, knowing he’d been defeated. Grandmother Harry’s Event Center was only three blocks away and he wasn’t going to get there. The polite police were about to eat his concoct.
He turned around, lowering his eyes to the shoes of the three officers.
“Whachoo carryin’?” Officer Tom said. Lilac had been right, his lips didn’t move. None of their lips moved. All three men looked like they had tiny fists balled up in their mouths.
“Concoct,” Lilac said quietly.
“Oo!” Officer Dick said.
“May we have some?” Officer Nashwant said. All three of them began reaching into their inner pockets for spoons.
“Uh, how about some more breadsticks?” Lilac said.
They shook their heads in unison.
Lilac could feel himself stretching out his arms and couldn’t resist. They’d asked so nicely.
Officer Dick lifted the lid and hovered his nose over the crock pot. “Mmm. Dat dere smells delightful.”
The other two officers nodded in unison as they came closer. Lilac’s heart raced. It was over for another year.
But as their spoons were poised over his crock pot there came a howl. All three officers looked up as if trying to pinpoint where the cry had come from.
Could that have been the soup werewolf? Was he nearby?
Lilac didn’t expect such a creature could save him, but Officer Dick put the lid back on his pot. “Y’ gwan now. Get gon’.”
Lilac wasted no time, turning around and hurrying away. He thought he’d heard the patter of foot pads nearing and wanted to be nowhere near when the officers met with such a hungry creature.
He’d gone no more than five feet when he realized he wasn’t holding his crock pot anymore. Lilac looked at what he had in his hands and saw he was now holding a dog that was roughly the same size and shape of his crock pot.
“Where you going?” The dog asked.
“Grandmother Harry’s,” Lilac said. “Where’s my concoct?”
“The lady took it.”
“What lady?’
“The lady who had the dog.”
“You?”
“I’m no lady. I’m a dog.”
“No, I mean were you the dog the lady had?”
The dog smiled. “Me.”
“Where is she going?”
“Grandmother Harry’s.”
Unafraid of spilling his concoct, Lilac took the dog under one arm and began sprinting down the sidewalk. He had to catch up with this thief before she could present his concoct as hers.
There was a bar ahead and Lilac turned to avoid it but the building moved farther out onto the sidewalk, blocking his path. Lilac turned onto the street as he ran, hoping to maneuver around the building but it hopped over the curb, getting in front of him again.
But the building didn’t know Lilac had taken fourth in track in high school. He ran straight, intending to jig at the last moment, but what he didn’t realize was track had been thirty years ago and he didn’t have the lungs or legs of a sixteen year old.
Lilac tried to cut left at the last moment but his bones gave way and he went down like Joe Frazier being punched off the Golden Gate Bridge by George Foreman with concrete shoes on. The bar lifted Lilac with a steel bollard and pulled him toward the front door where a giant of a man in a full length sarong tucked him under his arm, much like Lilac had done with the dog, and walked back inside.
Click here to Blind Date this book!
