Chicken Sandwich with a side of Crisis

When I read today's writing prompt from Absolutely Bananas I was thrilled. I didn't even have to think about what I would be writing about. I knew right away.

There was a time, not too long ago, that we had a roommate of sorts that lived with us. We'll call her J to keep things simple. J loved Chick Fil A like it was nobody's business and one day she stumbled upon a recipe online somewhere that instructed her as to how to go about making an authentic Chick Fil A chicken sandwich. It required the use of a pressure cooker.

I happened to have a pressure cooker that I had received as a wedding gift back in 1999 and we dragged it out to put it to work... for the very first time ever. This wasn't any fancy shmancy pressure cooker, it was a very basic model. When it had been given to me I had been told that I would be able to cook all sorts of magnificent creations with it. It scared me, though, and I promptly hid it in a cabinet all the way in the back.

My fear would turn out to be justified.

So J and I dragged out the pressure cooker (aka contraption of evil) and filled it with oil and specifically seasoned chicken breasts and tightly closed the lid. J placed the pressure cooker on the stove and we thought all was well.

The kids were all pretty small at the time, Goober was an infant so Bug and Munchkin must have been 2 and 4. Their world was safe and secure, their home was a haven that no harm would ever come to in their sweet little minds.

So I was standing in the kitchen and The Man was standing nearby chatting as the kids ran amouck as kids are typical of. J had gone into the other room to use the bathroom or something, I'm not sure. As I leaned against the counter, looking at The Man chatting about five feet away from me, we both heard a loud "POP!"

I turned to look in the general direction of the stove only to be smacked FIRMLY in the forehead with the lid to the pressure cooker. As I started to black out I could only dimly see the flames that began to shoot out into the kitchen and hear the screams of my poor children as they watched the scene play out in horror.

Somehow I managed not to pass out and I made my way over to our family room with the kids and told them I was OK (even though I wasn't sure I was). The Man frantically swatted at the flames with kitchen towels while shouting at me to ask if I was alright and J came back into the room screaming at all the ruckus.

It didn't take him long to put out the flames and in no time I stopped seeing stars. The kids deemed Daddy a hero for saving us all from burning up and we were forced to eat our dinner out on the patio due to the house being filled with smoke.

The pressure cooker went into the trash and the next time anyone wanted Chick Fil A we got into the car and paid $4.29 for it just like everybody else.