“My chicken came from the market, not the side of a road!”
“Quiet!” Mrs. Dixon called above the woman’s shrieks. “Give me that spatula—” Mrs. Dixon yanked the foreboding weapon away from the cook. “Phelinda, you go first.”
“You know how I was unsure about where the kabobs came from? Well, turns out that they were made out of that dead possum Percy dragged into the house!”
“You made Ricky into kabobs?” Mrs. Dixon turned to Bobby Sue.
“And they’re a big hit too,” Bobby Sue’s face shone with enthusiasm. “I heard someone say they was the tastiest kabobs they’d ever tasted!”
Mrs. Dixon pressed her fingers into her eyes. “I can’t handle this right now…let’s just bring in all the remaining kabobs and speak no more of this incident.”
“Well, there’s just one wee little problem with that.” Bo
