Haunted Kitchen

I woke up in a slouched yet comfy position on the couch in my living room. Between weird work hours and being under the weather I had drifted off in front of the TV sometime after 5pm and slept for several hours. As I got to my feet I noticed my five year old son was being carried up the stairs by my wife wrapped in his beloved blanket and my daughter (who is seven) sat on the floor watching Spongebob, the only real thought in my mind was getting myself a drink of water.

Making the short walk to the sink in the kitchen (just a few feet mind you) my brain slowly began processing the information I had so far gathered into as much sense as a groggy thirsty man can comprehend at such a moment.

It was dark (must be night)

I had slept through dinner (blasphemy!)

The kids were being put to bed (rapture!)

I stopped in the middle of the kitchen and surveyed the table, two small plates each bearing some a partially and or mostly eaten corn dog.

One of them was only half eaten (it's food on a stick!)

As anyone who has witnessed my figure can attest, I am not the kind of guy who is going to let food go to waste. Before filling a glass with cool water from the tap to aid my post-nap drymouth and pervasive thirst I consumed the last of the half-eaten corn dog in two or three bites.

Half-eaten and cold corn dog (I've had worse...)

I washed it down with a glass of water and turned to the trash bin to dispose of the stick. Sitting next to the can was the now empty carton corn dogs. No more dinner on a stick. I made a mental note to buy more when we went shopping next. The kids like them and as I had only recently discovered, they make a better than bad post-nap snack.

Settling myself back on the couch, I noticed my daughter was no longer sitting in front of the television. Excellent. She must have gone to bed.

As I grabbed the remote to change the channel, I hear a shriek, "Daddy!"

It was my daughter in the kitchen. I rushed to find her standing at the table in front of her tiny (and empty) plate. The little one stabbed my heart with those sad little eyes as she told me, "The kitchen is haunted and a ghost ate my corn dog!"

"Uh... yeah, sure... a ghost. Let me make you another one..." Turning to the freezer to set things right I was reminded by a flash in the corner of my eye of a white and blue box sitting next to the trash bin. No more dinner on a stick.

"Doh!"