Contest Preparations

Dennis walked in from the porch and shut the door. After removing his jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair, he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and stared somewhat perplexed at his two Brats.

The younger men were seated together at one side of the kitchen table, facing each other. Skyy was blindfolded and seemed to be spoon-feeding Dusty, or at least attempting to. Dusty was wearing a large black garbage bag which was presently covered in gooey bits of apple pie.

Dennis was debating with himself as to whether or not he should pretend to ignore them and go upstairs to change out of his suit when his curiosity got the better of him. So he stayed put and watched as Skyy scooped up a spoonful of the pie and tried to put it in Dusty’s mouth.

In an effort to help his fellow-Brat, Dusty moved his head to follow the movements of the spoon. They again met with failure when the spoon hit Dusty’s cheek. Its contents slid down to his shoulder and down the front of his protective gear to land first on his knee, then join the rest of the mess on the floor. Dennis figured his older Brat would consider that only slightly better than it adding to what was already in his hair.

‘Obviously,’ Dennis mused to himself, ‘there’s no cause to fear that Dusty has eaten enough pie to ruin his appetite for supper.’

Both he and Dusty rolled their eyes, but only Dusty voiced his frustration. “Are you ready yet to admit we’re never going to get this right, little buddy?” 

“Nope!” Skyy vehemently declared, removing his blindfold. “Let me read the rules once again to see what we’re doing wrong.”

Dusty’s shoulders slumped as he waited somewhat impatiently.

“Hey, this should help us, D. It says the feeder can’t hold the spoon with two hands, but doesn’t say anywhere that the feeder’s free hand can’t touch his partner. And there’s no rule saying you can’t make noise to help guide me.” Skyy repositioned his blindfold and scooped up some more pie. “Okay, just hum softly, D.”

Following the sound, Skyy’s left hand searched for and found Dusty’s right cheek. He whooped with joy when the spoon ended up right on target. He whipped off the blindfold and grinned at his teammate. “We did it!”

Dennis’ interest finally peaked. “Okay boys, just what is all this in aid of?”

“For the Pumpkin Festival this weekend,” Skyy replied. “Dusty and me signed up for one of the contests.”

“I don’t recall there ever being a contest that involved one person feeding another.”

“Seems like a few folks were getting tired of the same old events year after year. Someone came up with this idea to take the place of bobbing for apples,” Dusty explained.

“And this was the contest you two signed up for, right?” Dennis bowed his head and closed his eyes as if praying for patience when his question produced bright smiles and vigorously nodding heads.

“Now that we got the hang of it, we need to practice a bit more,” Skyy announced as he reached for the second pie sitting on the table.

“Oh no you don’t!” Dennis declared. “You two are going to clean up this mess while I get into more comfortable clothes. When I get back, we’re going to make supper together.”

Fully expecting to be obeyed, Dennis left the room. “Who thinks up these kinds of things anyway?” he muttered to himself as he walked down the hall.

He came to a sudden stop when out of the blue it hit him. He turned on his heel and hollered, “Skyylar!”

The End