Chip and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

By R. L. Keller

( With due acknowledgment – and apologies – to Judith Viorst)

“They're here!” was yelled through the screen door from inside his sister's house north of San Francisco as Chip Morton headed up the walkway. Immediately another voice reprimanded the first. “Hush, Degan, you'll wake the baby.”

Chip's best friend, Lee Crane, chuckled softly as he walked a step behind the blond. “So much for sneaking in unannounced.” Five-year-old Degan launched himself out the door and wrapped himself around his uncle's lower body. He hit so hard that Chip was nearly bowled over, remaining upright only because Lee reached out a hand and steadied him. “Easy, there, champ,” Lee told the youngster. “Your uncle Chip's had a long week.”

The child, as blond as his uncle, backed off a step. “Did you kill any monster seaweeds, Uncle Chip? How many torpedoes did you fire?”

“Degan,” was spoken sharply by the child's mother as she opened the screen door, welcoming in her sibling and Lee. “See what you cause,” she scolded Chip, albeit doing so while giving him a warm hug. “The stories you fill his mind with...”

“So,” Chip defended himself, walking into the spacious living room, “what are all fairy tales except grossly exaggerated half-truths?”

Beth shrugged as she gave Lee a hug. “I'll have to give you that one, I suppose. What can I get you two?” she continued. “Dinner won't be ready for another hour or so.”

“A chair and a beer,” Chip declared as he sprawled in the first piece of furniture he came to, an overstuffed rocker/recliner. “Like Lee said, it's been a long week.”

“Did you shoot anything?” Degan demanded, refusing to give up his inquisition. He was sure his uncle had some wonderfully gruesome stories to tell him.

“Don't tempt me,” Chip muttered not quite under his breath, causing Lee to snicker. Chip sent his friend a quick glare before letting out a long sigh, and continued a little louder and a little more under control to his nephew. “No, Degan, I didn't shoot anything. It's not something I do on a daily basis, you know.”

“But isn't that what submarines do?”

Beth's husband, Greg, walked into the room with eleven-month-old Cassidy draped over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, the babysitter let him watch a World War II show on the History channel,” he said softly, trying to convince his cherub-faced daughter to go back to sleep. It was quickly apparent that his efforts were going to be a losing battle as the little blond head was refusing to stay on his shoulder, wanting instead to twist around so that she could see the visitors. He gave everyone a sheepish look as Beth took the baby from him. “Did I hear something about a beer?” he asked his visitors.

“Please!” Chip breathed with feeling. Greg glanced at Lee, who nodded before stretching out in another chair, and Greg headed for the kitchen. When he came back through the swinging door Chip's nose twitched and he glanced at Beth, sitting in another rocker trying to convince Cassidy that she could watch the newcomers while still remaining quiet. For the moment, it seemed to be working. “What smells so good?”

His sister took a few strands of her longish red hair and used them to tickle her daughter's nose as she flicked a quick glance between Lee and Chip. “I wasn't sure just when you two would get here. I started parts of dinner a little early so that I wouldn't be rushed later. Greg,” she tried another distracting technique, this one on her brother, “why don't you bring in the plate of sugar cookies. They can start on those.”

“Cookies!” Degan announced happily.

“You get one,” his mother told him firmly.

“You'll let Uncle Chip have more,” the youngster challenged.

“I'm not at all concerned that they'll spoil his appetite,” Beth told her son firmly, at which both Degan and Chip frowned and the other three adults chuckled.

But Chip's frown changed to speculation as his brother-in-law once more pushed through the swinging door. “That smells familiar,” he said. “What are you fixing?”

“A recipe that Lee e-mailed me,” Beth told her brother casually. “I discovered that the longer you let it simmer, the more the flavors blend.”

Lee recognized the smells from the kitchen as the dish Chip had caught him fixing one night to take to the Jameson's for dinner – one that he'd not totally explained to his friend.* Chip was a confirmed 'meat-and-potatoes' kind of person, and definitely not into 'healthy' foods. This dish was entirely meatless, made much healthier by braising crumbled tofu, and he suspected that Chip would react badly when that was finally revealed. Now he sent Beth a small grin. “I discovered that it's also almost better reheated the next day.”

It was Beth's turn to grin. “I've made it a couple of times already – there aren't any leftovers to reheat.”

Greg came back in with a plate of cookies with chocolate frosting on top in time to hear his wife's comments. “Got that right,” he agreed. “Yumm!”

Chip momentarily glared at Lee. “You gave her the recipe but you won't give it to me?” Lee just shrugged, sent his friend a smile, and reached for a cookie.

“Chill, Chip,” Beth admonished her brother. “Apparently he said that he'd make it for you when you came up?” Chip almost reluctantly nodded. “He sent up the recipe so he wouldn't forget it, and it sounded so yummy that I tried it out ahead of time.”

“Told you that it didn't have any special ingredients I couldn't find up here,” Lee added. “Just...it's how you put them together.” He shared a conspiratorial grin with Beth.

Greg, who knew the whole story and sensed that his brother-in-law was about to get fussy, decided to help sidetrack the blond. “Please, eat the cookies. You're aware, of course, that you have to consume sugar cookies as fast as possible. The icing ferments over time and turns into a dangerous mind-altering compound that leaves you susceptible to subliminal messages. It's part of a nationwide conspiracy underwritten by the makers of diet products.” He barely got the commentary out before erupting into laughter as the others merely stared at him. When he finally got himself back under control he changed the topic, reaching for his own cookie. “So, tell us all about your lousy week,” he told Chip.

“GAH,” the blond muttered. “Where to start?”

Lee choked on a bite of cookie as he started to laugh, and it took him a couple seconds to get back under control. “Temporary secretaries,” finally bubbled out.

“That wasn't until Tuesday,” Chip growled. “You left out Monday.”

“I spent all day Monday otherwise occupied,” Lee reminded him.

“Conveniently out of the line of fire,” the blond muttered back. Lee's grin went even more innocent and Chip mumbled something under his breath, mindful of his nephew watching him intently.

“You had a bad week, Uncle Chip?” Degan asked seriously. “It doesn't get any better if you move to Australia.”

“Huh,” Lee sent his best friend a totally puzzled look. Hoping to sidetrack the conversation, Chip sent Lee a quick grin. “Degan, tell your uncle Lee all about Alexander,” he suggested.

“You don't know about Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, Uncle Lee?”

“That's a new one on me,” Lee admitted.

“It's one of his favorite stories,” Beth told him. “Degan can recite it from memory.”

“Okay, champ,” Lee told the five-year-old. “You tell me about Alexander, and then we can compare it to your Uncle Chip's last few days.” Chip groaned slightly that his misdirection wasn't apparently going to work, but they all listened intently as Degan regaled them all with the short story.

“Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,” Degan began. “It was written by a lady named Judith Viorst,” he told Lee seriously. “She really knew about bad days,” and he started to tell the story.

I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal.

I think I’ll move to Australia.

In the car pool Mrs. Gibson let Becky have a seat by the window. Audrey and Elliot got seats by the window too. I said I was being scrunched. I said I was being smushed. I said, if I don’t get a seat by the window I am going to be carsick. No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At school Mrs. Dickens liked Paul’s picture of the sailboat better than my picture of the invisible castle.

At singing time she said I sang too loud. At counting time she said I left out sixteen. Who needs sixteen?

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because Paul said I wasn’t his best friend anymore. He said that Philip Parker was his best friend and that Albert Moyo was his next best friend and that I was only his third best friend.

I hope you sit on a tack, I said to Paul. I hope the next time you get a double-decker strawberry ice-cream cone the ice cream part falls off the cone part and lands in Australia.

There were two cupcakes in Philip Parker’s lunch bag and Albert got a Hershey bar with almonds and Paul’s mother gave him a piece of jelly roll that had little coconut sprinkles on the top. Guess whose mother forgot to put in dessert?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That’s what it was, because after school my mom took us all to the dentist and Dr. Fields found a cavity just in me. Come back next week and I’ll fix it, said Dr. Fields.

Next week, I said, I’m going to Australia.

On the way downstairs the elevator door closed on my foot and while we were waiting for my mom to go get the car Anthony made me fall where it was muddy and then when I started crying because of the mud Nick said I was a crybaby and while I was punching Nick for saying crybaby my mom came back with the car and scolded me for being muddy and fighting.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody. No one even answered.

So then we went to the shoestore to buy some sneakers. Anthony chose white ones with blue stripes. Nick chose red ones with white stripes. I chose blue ones with red stripes but then the shoe man said, We’re all sold out. They made me buy plain old white ones, but they can’t make me wear them.

When we picked up my dad at his office he said I couldn’t play with his copying machine, but I forgot. He also said to watch out for the books on his desk, and I was careful as could be except for my elbow. He also said don’t fool around with his phone, but I think I called Australia. My dad said please don’t pick him up anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were lima beans for dinner and I hate lima beans.

There was kissing on TV and I hate kissing.

My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes, my marble went down the drain, and I had to wear my railroad-train pajamas. I hate my railroad-train pajamas.

When I went to bed Nick took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey Mouse night light burned out and I bit my tongue.

The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My mom says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.**

“Well,” Lee told the youngster once he quit laughing, “I'm not entirely sure that your uncle had quite that bad a time.” He glanced at Chip. “But it was close.”

“Your turn for a story, Uncle Chip,” Degan turned to his uncle.

“Yeah,” Chip muttered, finally sighed heavily, and waded into the minefield that he'd spent the last few days navigating.

“Barely got into the office Monday when Barfield...” he paused. “Our chief accountant had to take a leave of absence,” he explained to Beth and Greg. “He'll be back in two weeks. Thankfully!” He took a large swallow of beer and snagged another cookie. “Anyway, in the meantime we've had to put up with this idiot, Cecil Barfield, who seems to think that he needs to have a written record for every toothpick used in the cafeteria.”

“He's a real pain,” Lee agreed. “Maxwell at least keeps him under control. But the instant Daniel had to take leave, Barfield took it in his brain to, as he was overheard to phrase it, 'get this company back in line'.” It was his turn to sigh. “Admiral Nelson has been heard to plan his demise. In the shark tank,” he added with a grumble.

Chip sent him a speculative look. “Humm, was that before or after Monday?”

“Before,” Lee informed him as he reached for another cookie. “I don't think he's heard about that, yet, since he's been in DC all week.” It was his turn to frown as Chip smirked. “Don't,” Lee warned him. “You really don't want to be responsible for that kind of slaughter.”

“Would one of you kindly get back to the story before I smack you?” Beth ordered.

“Oh, yeah,” Chip gave himself a shake. “Sorry.” He and Lee still shared a quick look before the blond continued. “What had set Barfield off this time was what he considered a major anomaly in my supply order, but what I knew – and everyone else who was on the last cruise,” he and Lee both shuddered, “was strictly a necessity. We...ah...sort of had a small problem on the way home when nearly all of the crew ended up with food poisoning.”***

“Did you go to Australia?” Degan wanted to know. It caused quick smiles all around before both Chip and Lee shuddered slightly.

Chip held up a hand as Beth started to question. “It was an accident,” he hurried to explain. “Nothing Cookie did. Just...one of those things.” Neither he nor Lee wanted to explain the tainted dried fruit that had been brought aboard. “But we ended up using an over abundance of bathroom tissue so, when I put in the re-supply order, I doubled the usual amount so Seaview would be totally restocked. Barfield came a little unhinged, obviously not knowing the reason.”

“Knowing him, he didn't bother checking the reason,” Lee muttered.

“That, too,” Chip agreed.

“You still should have been able to deal with the explanation,” Beth said. “He can't possibly think he can argue with facts. Especially from Seaview's XO.” Her expression turned puzzled when the statement caused Lee to quickly have to smother a giggle.

“Sorry,” Lee told her once he was back under control. “Part of Tuesday's story,” he gave her half of an explanation and turned back to Chip.

“Yeah, I'll get to that,” came from the blond in a snarl. A little softer he continued. “No, once I pointed out a few details he'd obviously ignored, I got him sorted out. But just getting to that meeting ended up an obstacle course.” He emptied his beer bottle and his brother-in-law immediately headed for the kitchen to get a refill. He glanced at Lee but a quick shake of the dark head told him that Lee was still nursing his first bottle. Greg came back with a fresh one as Chip finished stuffing another cookie in his mouth. “Thanks,” Chip mumbled around the crumbs, washed them down with a more controlled swallow of beer, and continued.

“Barfield ordered me to his office...” He paused as both Beth and Greg stared at him. He merely shrugged and sent them a small smile. “Yeah, but it didn't bother me, letting him try to push what he thinks as 'his authority' around. Just meant that I could get up and walk out any time I felt like it, rather than put up with him in my office for who knew how long.” He got back nods and got back to the narrative. “I gathered up a copy of Doc's report documenting...” he gave his head a shake as three smiles were sent his way for that sentence, “the incident, and headed for his office half an hour early.”

“Throw Barfield off track by showing up early,” Lee interjected. “Typical Chip tactic.” He chuckled as Chip sent him a quick glare.

“Unfortunately, I made the mistake of stopping to help Angie change an ink cartridge in her printer.” He sent the group a disgusted look. “Those things are sealed. No problem, right?” He sent Lee another glare as the brunet buried a grin. “The blasted thing exploded – I don't know another word for what happened – and I ended up with print powder all over my uniform.”

“Oops,” Beth told him sincerely. Having grown up with him, she as much as anyone knew what a neatnik her brother was. He would have been totally torqued!

“No biggy,” Chip shrugged it off. Sort of. Beth still saw a look cross her brother's face that had her biting her tongue. “I keep a spare uniform in my office, and thankfully the report didn't get hit with any of the fallout. I cleaned up and headed out again...” He paused as once more Lee choked off a snort. “Yeah,” Chip growled. “Turned a corner and ran smack into him,” he pointed at Lee, “headed for his own meeting with the Engineering department.”

Lee cringed slightly at the tone of Chip's voice. “I was carrying a big mug of coffee – it was going to be an involved meeting and I needed my own fortification. The secretary staff in Engineering has gone on a decaf kick.”

“Not only did the coffee wipe out another uniform shirt, it destroyed Doc's report,” Chip muttered, before sighing heavily. “Back to my office, print out a new report, and grab a polo shirt 'cause I'm out of clean uniforms. Note to self – keep four clean uniforms in my office from now on.” Everyone chuckled at that. “By that time I was late. Stalked into Barfield's office – he wasn't impressed with my casual dress. Tough! Tossed the report on his desk, told him that if he was unable to read facts to take it up with Doc, and I stomped back out.”

“And holed up in his office the rest of the day,” Lee added oh so innocently.

Beth grinned. “I gather Barfield got the hint.”

Chip finally sent her a small smile. “Didn't hear another word out of him, for sure.”

“So,” Beth goaded him softly, “what did Tuesday bring for Seaview's XO?” She'd not forgotten the little side-play between her brother and Lee earlier.

Chip groaned audibly and made a hit on his beer. “So, I come in Tuesday carrying three uniforms, fresh from the cleaners...” that got chuckles all around, “and discover that my secretary is home sick with the flu and I've got a temp. On a day when I've got a gazillion memos and staff reports that need reading and typing responses to!”

“First of the month,” Lee interjected. “Everyone spends Monday doing their departmental reports, and Tuesdays can get really bogged down getting through them all, as well as re-distributing the information where it's needed.”

“Yeah,” Chip agreed. “So I make a hit on the coffee pot for fortification and discover that there's only hot water because the temp only drinks tea.”

“She's still alive?” Beth knew her brother only too well.

“Barely,” Chip growled. “Tossed that out while telling her in no uncertain terms that the coffee pot was for coffee only and she could jolly well get her own hot water, and waded into the reports.” He glanced at Degan, seemingly fascinated by his uncle's story, and didn't say out loud what was fairly readable – by the adults – on his face.

“I started in on the reports, getting the data sorted into where it needed to be directed, and sending the various merged reports to the printer so that I could distribute them in digest form.” He sighed and took a swig of beer. “I go out to get the reports... I have got to get a printer in my office instead of using the one I share with my secretary, Trish,” he growled at Lee, who shrugged, “...and nothing's there. I look at the temp and ask what she did with them, and she's on the phone talking to someone about shades of lipstick.” He shook his head. “When she doesn't answer me I disconnect the call and ask again, actually fairly nicely.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lee interjected softly, and Beth and Greg snickered.

“And she says, 'well, the printer kept beeping but nothing came out so I just ignored it.' Then she shrugs and redials whoever she was talking to.”

“And she's still alive?” Beth asked incredulously.

“Angie doesn't like me throwing secretaries out third floor windows,” Chip told her, “but I was sorely tempted. I did, however, inform Angie that she needed to seriously re-evaluate her screening practices. Anyway, once I cleared the printer I spent the rest of the morning having to totally re-do all the screwed up reports.”

“Have another cookie,” Beth told him. “Sounds like you burned up a lot of extra calories in frustration.” Cassidy had finally gone back to sleep, and Beth got up carefully to put her back to bed elsewhere in the house. Both Greg and Lee helped themselves to more cookies as well, and Greg broke off part of his and gave it to Degan, who was looking longingly at the diminishing stack. Greg put a finger to his lips and Degan nodded seriously, understanding not to let his Mom see. He was done eating the small piece by the time Beth re-entered the room. “So, you finally got things sorted out,” she said with confidence in her brother as she headed for the kitchen. This time she left the swinging door open.

“Not exactly,” Chip informed her. Beth stayed in the kitchen but kept one eye and one ear glued to the conversation in the living-room. “I did have a different temp when I got back from lunch.”

“Hallelujah,” Greg told him.

Chip grimaced. “Not exactly,” he grumbled. He sent a look Lee's way when his friend couldn't control another chuckle. That look had been known to send members of Seaview's crew scurrying for their lives. As usual it had little effect on Lee. Chip finally sent him a quick nod and continued. “I had several memos to get out, still, and since I'd ended up wasting so much time that morning, I dictated them and gave them to the temp to type up. This one at least seemed competent.”

“Wrong,” Lee said quietly.

“Oops,” it was Greg's turn to murmur.

“I'm used to Trish typing a master and letting me proof things before she e-mails them out.” Chip shrugged. “The temp had a different working style. I'd left sticky notes as to who each memo was supposed to be sent to, and she just typed them up and e-mailed them out. And obviously she didn't proof them, either,” Chip added with a growl.

“Chip hates typos,” Lee once more interjected a small commentary.

“Yeah!” Chip agreed.

“They can't have been that bad,” Beth tried to console her brother.

Chip sent her a toned-down version of the glare he'd favored Lee with a few moments earlier. “They sent Lee nearly rolling on the floor laughing before he brought them to my attention.”

Beth sent Lee a raised eyebrow. “She just switched two letters in one e-mail, and left out a letter in another,” Lee explained.

“But it was which letters where,” Chip muttered.

“Yes?” Beth was sensing that her ultra-competent brother had taken a major hit. And she was loving every bit of it. Not that she wished him ill. But it was nice to see him knocked down a peg or two on occasion.

“At least both e-mails stayed in-house,” Lee tried to mollify his friend.

“Thank heaven for small miracles.” Chip refused to quit frowning.

“So, is one of you going to finally spit out what the problems were?” Greg asked with a careful smile.

“Only if I have to,” Chip muttered.

Lee had been trying to get Chip to admit what had caused his foul mood, but his stubborn friend wasn't giving in so he finally did. “The first one involved staff letting him know in a more timely fashion than has been happening when reporting the occasional overcharge by supply distributors. But instead of 'reporting to Seaview’s XO,' she'd typed 'reporting to Seaview's OX.”

Beth couldn't hold in the giggles and ended up enduring a ferocious glare from her brother. But she was just as good as Lee was at ignoring the blond's occasional temper tantrums. “And the other one?” she asked Lee, ignoring Chip.

“A small matter of leaving out the 't' in Chip's last name at the end of the memo. At that Beth totally lost it and disappeared back into the kitchen. However, she almost immediately reappeared. “This wouldn't be one of the secretaries you've dated, would it? Maybe she was holding a grudge for some reason.”

Chip shook his head. “She's married,” he told his sister.

Lee was also quick to dissuade that thought. “When Chip called her into his office and pointed out the typos, her contrition at the errors was most definitely genuine.”

“Yeah,” Chip was forced to admit – however reluctantly. “She was still feeling so bad about it the next morning – Trish was back, thankfully – that she brought in fresh bagels and cream cheese from the bakery downtown.” A smile almost hit the blond's face before he remembered that he was supposed to be ticked off. Beth didn't miss the look, and giggled her way back into the kitchen.

“So hopefully, with your secretary back, things calmed down,” Greg reasoned.

“Yes and no,” Chip muttered. He almost drained his beer bottle, visibly controlled himself, and merely took a sip. “Started in on my day's projects...”

“Properly fortified with high-test coffee and three bagels slathered with half an inch of cream cheese each,” Lee interjected, grinning at Greg with a sideways smirk at his best friend.

Chip tried to snarl back but his heart wasn't in it, and Lee's grin spread as he took his own sip of beer and winked at Greg. Chip sent him a slight tip of his beer bottle in acknowledgment and continued. “Needed to call one of our suppliers. There was a discrepancy between what was on the invoice, what I’d ordered, and what we'd actually received.” He frowned. “Since the last time I talked to them they'd put in an automated phone handling system.”

“I hate those things,” Beth commented from the kitchen.

“Dinner ready?” Chip asked hopefully.

“Not quite,” his sister informed him. “You have time to finish your story.”

“Swell,” Chip grumbled, not quite under his breath.

“Was the company in Australia?” Degan asked.

“No, but they're going to be kicked there if they don't fix their phones,” Chip threatened.

“Degan, quit interrupting your uncle,” Greg admonished, albeit with a grin in his voice.

Chip sent him a look, sighed heavily, and continued. “So, I dial the number – it's long distance, of course – and I get a wrong number.” There were small sympathetic sounds from Beth and Greg. “I know I dialed correctly, but I double-checked the number anyway and dialed again. That's when I discovered the new system.” He glanced at Beth, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Most of them, when they start their spiel, you can hit zero and it will take you to an actual person at the reception desk. Not this one,” he ended in a snarl. Everyone, including Degan, wisely stayed quiet. “I get this...” he glanced at his nephew, “stupid message, something about not recognizing that option, and I got disconnected. So, I dialed again and had to listen to half a dozen different options, none of which sounded like what I wanted, so I picked one thinking I'd get a person who could direct me to who I needed. All I get is another list of options.” He paused for a swallow of beer. “This set really didn't sound like I wanted so I wait for an option to take me back to the main menu.”

“There's always one of those,” Greg offered.

“Not this time,” Chip muttered. “By now I'm so screwed up that I hang up and start all over again. I pay very close attention to the options and finally get an honest-to-gosh warm body.”

“Hallelujah,” Beth breathed.

Chip sent her a disgusted glare. “Yeah, right.”

“Did you know,” Lee interjected, his eyes twinkling, “that those two words, used together, are the only time in the English language where two positives equal a negative?” Chip transferred the glare to his best friend, Lee sent back a totally cherubic grin as he reached for another cookie, and Greg and Beth struggled – and failed – to bury chuckles.

Chip finally gave his head a shake and went back to the story. “So, I get an actual voice, start to explain the problem...” He glanced at both Greg and Beth. “We were invoiced for a case of one set of parts but what we received were something totally different. Still usable, but nearly half the price of what we'd ordered and been billed for.” He got back nods of understanding. “So I barely start the explanation and whoever I was talking to stopped me and said that he didn't deal with that, and he'd transfer me to Shipping. So I'm on hold for, like, ten minutes, I swear...” Lee held up two fingers and Chip sent him another glare when his sister snickered softly. “So,” Chip continued with another sneer at Lee, “I start in with the dude in Shipping, and he says that he packed what was on the Invoice, and before I could do anything he sticks me back on hold again and transfers me to Invoicing.” He frowned. “That idiot was adamant that he'd invoiced the order exactly as he'd gotten it from Processing. I get stuck on hold – again – and transferred to Processing.”

“Eesh,” Beth sympathized.

“Oh, it gets better,” Lee told her.

“Good grief,” Greg breathed not totally quietly.

Chip actually growled. “So, Processing says I screwed up the order and I tell him no way, and fax him a copy of the original order while he’s still on the line. He hems and haws and somehow I end up on hold. Again. I figure that he’s straightening it out but suddenly I’m talking to the idiot in Shipping, who’s still no help and transfers me to Invoicing, who hasn’t a clue and transfers me to Accounts Receivable. I thought that warm body was actually listening to me until he muttered something about not being able to rebill for what we’d received without authorization. I said fine, give me to someone who has that authority, and I promptly get disconnected.” He looked at his nephew. “By this time I was ready to shoot someone,” he told Degan, and then promptly pointed a finger at the youngster. “But I didn’t,” he said firmly. “I handled it the proper way – by firing off another fax, detailing the entire problem as well as my extremely unsatisfying phone conversation, and demanding that the original shipment be re-billed, the original order be filled, both confirmed within twenty-four hours, or they could expect no further business from NIMR in the future.” He let out a blast of air and his hard look turned decidedly smug. “I had a confirmation fax within two hours, and the right order delivered overnight express. For which shipping option,” he added, including the others in his glance, “cost them a pretty penny but for which we were not charged.”

Beth clapped her hands. “That made up for all the hassle.”

“Mostly, anyway,” Chip had to agree, and his sister smiled.

“So, did your week finally fall into place after that?” Greg asked.

Lee had, unfortunately, just taken the last swallow of his beer and very nearly choked trying to smother a snort of laughter. After a quick glare at him, Chip frowned at his brother-in-law. “If you don’t count having to hurry to a meeting after the extended phone conversation, walking in five minutes late, and then discovering that I’d grabbed the wrong folders.”

“Ouch,” Greg sympathized.

“Or being in the shower this morning, nicely lathered up, and my hot water tank died!”

“Oh, no,” Beth commiserated. “Did you at least have a reason last night to be requiring a cold shower before work this morning?” She said it with a straight face but immediately ducked back into the kitchen, out of her brother’s line of fire. As both Lee and Greg finally got their instant laughter under control, she called out, “Dinner ready in two minutes.” She heard a muttered, “It’s about time,” and sent her brother a grin as everyone gathered around the table.

Chip’s mood instantly improved as he glanced over the table. A large bowl of salad greens sat with several different varieties of bottled dressing. Nearby were serving dishes, one filled with baby carrots sautéed in butter and the other a broccoli and cauliflower combination blended in a light cheese sauce. There was a divided plate that held several kinds of olives and pickles, and a butter dish sat next to a covered basket from which emanated the scent of freshly baked rolls. Chip was already licking his lips in anticipation as he sat down, ignoring the amused grin on Lee’s face as he also settled into a chair. Greg poured coffee for the adults before he sat down, a glass of milk already sitting in front of Degan’s plate. Beth was the last to sit, bringing with her a bowl of dry Chinese noodles and a serving dish filled with what resembled a saucy hamburger sloppy joe mix.

Chatter was limited as dishes were passed and everyone’s plates filled with the dinner selections. Chip could barely contain himself until everyone had some of everything and he could fill his fork full of a combination of dry noodles now loaded with a large helping of the meat mixture.

Conversation continued to be sporadic. Now that Chip was otherwise occupied, Greg and Beth had a chance to catch up with what had been keeping Lee busy since the last time he’d visited – at least, the unclassified parts. Lee enjoyed Chip’s baby sister and her family. There were also comments about the meal – Beth was an excellent cook.

Chip did take a fair amount of ribbing as he took a second helping of the noodles and saucy meat mixture. “It’s even better than what I tasted at your place,” he sniped at his friend.

Lee nodded. “Like Beth said earlier, it’s better the more you let the flavors marinate. Mine was barely finished cooking, let alone being allowed to simmer for a while.” Chip shrugged and continued eating.

Half an hour later the only thing left of the meal were a few pickles and olives. Chip had polished off the last of the noodles and meat while ignoring the smiles and snickers from the rest at the table, including Degan, before helping the others make a fairly large dent in a devil’s food layer cake with cream cheese frosting. He picked up his coffee, drained the last of that, and collected both Beth and Lee into a firm gaze. “Now, one of you two, tell me what’s so special about the meat in that.” He pointed to the now empty dish.

Lee very carefully kept a straight face. “There’s actually nothing special about the meat used to prepare that dish.”

Chip turned to his sister. “He’s hopeless. Give, Sis,” he ordered.

Beth chuckled. “Lee’s absolutely correct – there’s nothing special about the meat.” As Chip’s expression hardened and he prepared to turn on his best XO performance, Beth turned on her own ‘little sister knows more than big brother’ expression. “Because, Chip, there is no meat at all in the recipe.”

Chip snorted. “I know meat when I eat it,” he told her.

“Not this time,” Lee told him. “It’s tofu.”

“What?” Chip practically yelled. “No way!”

“Yes, way,” Beth told him smugly. “It’s all crumbled up and sautéed firm tofu.”

There was complete silence around the table until a small voice broke in. “Some days are like that, Uncle Chip. Even in Australia.”

*see “A Special Dinner Request”

** “Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day” by Judith Viorst, c. 1972

***see “Shark Bait