In front of his stove, Jason squinted in concentration at the small skillet. He had to admit, it was starting to smell good in here. "Okay, now what?"
From his cell on the counter next to him, his mother's calm voice emitted. "They're crispy on both sides?"
"Yup."
"All right. Transfer the breasts to the pan of baked pasta you already prepared. Just set them on top."
He did as she asked. "Done. And stop saying breasts."
A musical laugh. "Spoon some sauce onto the breaded breasts and sprinkle the remaining Italian cheese blend you have left over that." She paused. "Breasts."
He shook his head, laughing, while he followed her instructions. "There's just something very wrong about hearing your mama say breasts, even if she's referring to chicken." He wiped his hands on a towel. "All set.
