Part One
Cameron’s keys rattled in the lock and Olive sunk deeper into her hiding place. She could almost feel Cameron’s nose wrinkle as the burnt aroma greeted him at the apartment door.
His words trickled down to her. “Are you okay?”
Raising her head above the water, Olive replied in a small voice, “I’m in the tub.” She was not quite ready to leave her watery sanctuary.
Cameron made his way down the hall and peeked in. Olive was languorously sprawled in the tub beneath the flickering bubbles. Spluttering candles lit the room as she raised her glass at his entrance, ice cubes tinkling.
“Um…can you tell me what happened?” Cameron asked.
“It’s really quite funny actually…”
“Yeah, a lot of things seem funny when you’ve had some amount of-”
“3!”
“…gnts in an hour. Why is there a smoky mess in the kitchen?” As he settled on the toilet lid, Olive recounted the evening’s events.
Part Two
Olive was already up one gin and tonic when she got home from work. Now she thumbed through her new cookbook, second gnt in hand. Her eye caught a recipe for spicy onion rings. She had never deep fried anything before, but so what? How hard could it be?
Being somewhat cheap, she didn’t want to waste a lot of oil, so Olive chose her smallest pot, a tiny blue camping pan. She filled it almost to the brim and placed it in the center of the element. She sliced and battered the onions then threw a ring in the oil. Batter fizzled. In went another ring but this time a glittering cascade of oil flowed over the ides of the pan. Flames soared upwards. She lunged at the dial and turned off the element. The fire flared in defiance. Smoke choked the apartment. As the volcano erupted on her stove, she panicked. Two words formed in her brain. Fire. Water.
She grabbed a cup, filled it with water and dashed it over the pot, then leapt backwards as the fire blazed up, licking at the wooden cupboards above. She shrieked as splatters of scalding oil peppered her arms. Olive glared at the pot, willing it to cool. When that technique failed, she seized the handle with oven mitts and deposited the fiery mess in the sink. As the flames died, she slumped against the counter.
Olive surveyed the chaos. Smoke dissipating, the pot sputtering angrily, oily water on every surface. Only her gin and tonic stood untouched by the devastation; the glass, surrounded by a glistening halo of condensation, was an oasis of tranquillity. She downed the drink in one go, poured another, then retreated to the safety of the bathtub.
Part Three
Olive buttoned her mouth and sat back in the now chilly water. Cameron’s eyebrows raised. She looked up at him, waiting, a small smile beginning to blossom.
“You threw water…on burning oil?” he asked. She nodded, the smile growing slightly into a wince.
He fought to still the raising corners of his mouth, to subdue the shaking of his shoulders. But finally, as a sheepish Olive sipped gin and tonic, the apartment rang with Cameron’s laughter.