It was a Saturday morning in the year 1925. After gathering all of the baking implements from the cupboards and the spices from the spice carousel in the pantry, Mary Jo was ready to start baking chocolate apple pies for the annual family reunion. The trip across the state, with their wagon, pulled by mules, would take them three days. Mary Jo couldn’t wait to see Uncle Fester and Aunt Natasha and the rest of her family, who all lived in their vicinity.
Monty, Mary Jo’s husband, was the only lawyer in the small town they lived in. His position of prestige had gotten him used to being kow-towed to by everyone in his work sphere. He was brilliant in the courtroom, but Monty was oblivious to the reality that Mary Jo had long grown weary of his expectation that she do the same.
Every time Mary Jo tried to get started on the pies, Monty yelled from the other room, much as a Duke would ring a bell for a servant, compelling Mary Jo to enquire what he was yelling about. Each time it something minor, but each time her irritation grew. Here it was 3pm already, she hadn’t even started on the pies, and they were leaving in the morning!
Once again Mary Jo returned to the kitchen to begin making the pies. Again Monty yelled. This time when Mary Jo went to see what Monty wanted, she went to him with the rolling pin – and with purpose.