They had come upon a large flat rock that would make a great table for their cookout. George looked around and found a small version of the big flat rock which he saved to set down into the fire that Jess was building. They would set the burgers down on the small flat rock after it had set in the fire for a little while. It should serve as a fine frying pan for their meal. George cut the plastic hamburger package open to reveal pink, healthy meat. He gave it the sniff test and did not result in that scrunched up face everybody gets when they smell rancid meat. “Got any salt or pepper left in that emergency kit?” George asked. He already knew that Jess did. They used George’s to season the catfish. “On its way chef cooks-on-a-flat-rock.” Jess replied while reaching for his emergency kit wrapped in plastic. George never missed a chance to make a joke about his heritage especially if he could make someone a little uneasy. “Did you say chief cooks-on-a-flat-rock or chef cooks-on-a-flat-rock?” Jess started to feel uneasy then realized his friend’s ploy and relaxed while replying, “Whichever title you prefer sir as I believe you are more qualified for either over this humble one’s existence.” “You might make a fine Chief.” George said. “Fair enough.” Jess replied. “But you know I can’t cook.” “Fair enough it is.” George finished the conversation. Both men laughed. It was a much needed release. By the time they were eating the hamburgers their whole circumstance seemed to be less drastic. next page |  |