Action Pulp!

What’s for Dinner?

By Adam Messer

Mildred smiled at the gentleman sitting across from her on the green metal bench.

“What was that?” she asked him.

“The 455 is running a little late this afternoon,” he said returning a friendly smile to her. “Looks like you had a long day.”

Mildred sighed, “you only know the half of it,” she said. “Work was crazy, the grocery store was really busy, and my husband is waiting on me to get home to cook.”

“Husband? Lucky man,” he said. 

Mildred blushed a little. 

Lucky indeed, she thought. 

Mildred was a homely woman, a bit disheveled and frumpy, with salt and peppered curly hair had not been brushed in nearly a week. She was in her early sixties, but not yet old enough to draw Social Security. Her black work scrubs were adorned with a quirky kitty cat design which matched her pants. They were also stained by the chips and salsa she had at during her lunch. 

She hoped the handsome young man wouldn’t notice. She loved kitty cats, and if she had not been married for the last 37 years, she would be one of those crazy cat ladies. Even still, she had four cats who roamed around her house. 

She was not used to compliments either, let alone one from a nice-looking younger man sitting across from her at the Metro Bus Station bench. Stanley, her husband, was a pre-maturely retired handy-man who was hurt on the job and had not worked in over 20 years. He barely paid any attention to her, let alone pay her any compliments.

The 455 Metro bus pulled up next to them and stopped. Mildred and the young man waited to board as the passengers disembarked. The young man stood up and offered to help Mildred carry her brown paper bagged groceries onto the bus. 

How nice of this young man. Stanley never offers to help with the groceries as she considered how this stranger had been kind. 

Mildred reluctantly accepted his offer for help. She became suspicious of his kind gestures, wondering if he wanted to rob her or worse.

You can never be too careful around a strange man she thought. It was not her original thought after all, but a reflection of what her mother would tell her and her four sisters growing up. Her papa and mother had been married for 45 years before her papa passed away.

“Where do you want to sit, ma’am?” he asked. 

“Oh, I always sit near the front of the bus,” she replied. “Easier for me to get off at my stop, you know.” She plopped down in the first seat at the front of the bus, directly and diagonally across from the driver. 

Can’t be too careful she thought. Even if he is a handsome young fellow. What ever in the world would he be doing giving attention to an old bitty like me? Maybe he fancies…

The young man sat the two bags of groceries in the seat next to Mildred. Then he sat down across from her. “My name is Evan.”

Oh, here we go. I suppose he will want to tell me his life story next. 

“Nice to meet you Evan. My name is …” she paused ever so slightly, “Eve.” She smiled thinking how clever it was for her to make up a fictitious name on the spot. “Yes, Eve is my name. Short for Evelyn, you know.” She quickly averted her gaze from Evan and looked out of the front of the bus. It had not occurred to her the name Eve was so like the name Evan that maybe she was not as clever as she thought. Mildred was a simple woman and smiled just the same.

“Nice to meet you as well, Eve,” he said, giving an ever so slight hint of doubt in his response due to her hesitation. “I’m new to Savannah. Just moved here from Newport, Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?” she gasped. “What brings you all the way down here from Kentucky.”

“I’m an actor. I had a friend tell me Savannah is where it is at for the business and a great place to get into acting versus trying LA or New York,” he said.

“An actor?” she replied. “Good for you. Bless your heart.” Now every good Southern lady knows what a pertinent and well dispatched Bless your heart means; Bless your heart is a kindly way of telling someone they are foolish, or worse.

“Yep. My goal is to be the leading role one day. I know I must pay my dues though,” Evan said.

“That is wonderful you have a goal. An actor, you say,” she said. “What sort of movies do you do?” Mildred asked. She tended to one of the brown paper bags, sorting her groceries.

“They don’t bag groceries like they used to, you know?” The side of the bag ripped a little. “That’s a bunch of busted biscuits!” she said. “I surely hope I can make it home without the whole bag breaking.”

Evan started standing up when the bus abruptly stopped on East 57th Street, forcing him to sit back down. 

Mildred stood up, grabbed her groceries, and walked toward the front of the bus. She stopped in front of Evan, turned, and said “it was very nice meeting you, Mr. Evan. Good luck with your acting career. I am sure to see you up on the silver screen one day.”

“Thank you,” Evan replied excitedly. “I forgot to ask you though?”

“Yes,” Mildred answered.

“What’s for dinner?”

Mildred smiled and replied. “Oh, nothing special, just a simple meal. It is my husband’s favorite though. Simple meal for a simple man.”

“Sounds like a delicious dinner. Did you need any help walking your groceries home? My new apartment is only about six blocks away, and I wouldn’t mind helping you carry them home,”

“No, no, I could not ask you to burden yourself with my groceries.” she said. 

“I would not mind at all,” Evan said. “I have not met many people in Savannah yet, and I am trying to make some new friends. You seem like a nice lady, and it would be no bother for me at all.”

Mildred thought about it for a minute. “You know, on second thought, young man, I will take you up on your offer.”

Alas, she never spoke the words out loud. Instead, she stepped off the bus, with a grocery bag in each arm. She nearly fell from the last step onto the sidewalk.

“You be careful now, Ms. Mildred,” the bus driver said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mildred turned, smiled, and nodded her head, and went about her way down toward 57th street. 

“Ms. Mildred?” Evan asked the bus driver. “She told me her name was Eve.”

The bus driver scoffed a little. “Of course, she did. Bless your heart. Of course, she did,” as she drove off.

Puzzled, Evan thought surely, he heard the woman say Eve. I will have to ask her again if I ever see her.

Crack! 

Thunder clashed as lightning flashed across the sky. Dark clouds flew in from South Abercorn. The torrential rain headed directly toward Mildred.

“Just what I need!” she said. She began to walk faster, as the rain chased her. 

BOOM! 

Lightning struck close enough to make her jump, making her drop the already ripped bag of groceries. Green peppers, onions, and cloves of garlic rolled down the sidewalk. Mildred scrambled to pick them up and put them back into the bag.

SHABOOM!

She hurried as fast as she could. The storm clouds enveloped her and played with her like a cat with its prey. The streetlights came on even though it was only 5:55 pm.

Mildred’s shins burned from her hurried pace. The last thing she wanted today was to get soaking wet before she got home. She was determined to beat the storm.

Only two more houses to go. Maybe I can beat this rain. 

“Please God,” she said, “please help me make it home out of this rain. Your will be done, Amen!”

She cut across her neighbor’s yard, in a straight line to her front door. She normally went through the garage door since it was always open. Today it was not.

KABOOM! 

Lightning struck the magnolia tree in her front yard, splitting it in half. Mildred screamed in terror. 

“Open the door, Stanley!” she yelled as she banged on the front door. 

Stanley picked up the tv remote and muted the sound. “Did you hear that?” he asked his son next to him on the couch.

“Hear what?” his son replied.

“Must have been nothing.”

“Stanley! Open the door! The storm is coming! Stanley!” she began whimpering. She set the two bags of groceries down, looked over her shoulder and saw it was still dark, but the rain had subsided.

She sighed in relief and began digging through her purse looking for her house keys.

Mildred pulled her housekey out of her purse, looked up to the sky. “Thank you for this small, but wonderful blessing!” she said.

PSHSWOOOSH!

Rain fell from the sky soaking every inch of Mildred’s body. She began crying.

Slowly she put the key in the deadbolt. She turned the key, unlocking the deadbolt. She moved to the lower lock and unlocked it. She picked up the soaking wet bags of groceries and turned the knob, only to find the door was chain locked still.

“Open the door please,” she said in an eerily calm voice. From the doorway, she looked through the foyer and saw her husband Stanley and her son Irwin sitting on the couch.

Irwin sprung up and took the chain off the door opening it for her. “Jeez Ma! Would you look at you! Soaking wet,” he said. “Don’t you know better than be out in the rain. You’ll catch your death that way.” To which Irwin spun around, walked back in the living room, and plopped back down on the couch.

“What did I tell about jumping on my couch like that?” Stanley said as he whopped Irwin with a good thump across his shoulder.

“Ow! Pa!” Irwin said. “Sorry!”

Stanley turned his attention back to the game. “Why are you late?” he asked Mildred.

Holding back her tears, Mildred took a deep breath and shuffled inside the foyer. “The bus was running late, and I had to get the groceries, and then it started raining…” Mildred said in a hurry.

“And, and, and?” Stanley interrupted her. “What does any of that have to do with my dinner not being ready? You know dinner is supposed to be ready by 6:00 pm on the dot for me to watch my shows. It is now 5:59 pm. What do you expect me to eat while my shows are on? Mildred?” Stanley berated the frail woman, drenched from head to toe.

Rip. Plunk. Bang! the wet bag of groceries burst open, with the contents spilling out to the floor.

“Ouch! My foot!” Mildred shrieked after the family size pasta sauce glass jar hit her big toe.

“Look what you have done now,” Stanley yelled.

Irwin jumped from the couch again. Mildred felt a moment of happiness as he was coming to help her clean up the spilled groceries.

“Thank you, son, for helping me with my mess,” she said.

“Helping you? I didn’t drop the food. I ain’t picking it up.” Irwin brushed past her and opened the door.

She closed her eyes and stopped for a second. Breathe. This is only temporary. You just dropped the groceries. No big deal.

“I’m supposed to meet the boys at the shop tonight. Don’t worry though, Ma, I’ll be home in a couple of hours. What’s for dinner?”

Mildred disguised her sadness with a faint smile. She cleared her throat. “Oh, it’s your father’s favorite. Spaghetti with meat sauce.”

Irwin never heard her because he slammed the door shut behind him before she could answer.”

Stanley grumbled. “That again? Do we have to have spaghetti and meat sauce every week? And I hope you got the good meat this time. And make sure you cook the spaghetti right this time. Last time it was awful,” he ranted.

“Yes, dear,” Mildred said, as she reached across the floor to grab the spaghetti sauce jar. It slipped away from her hand and rolled toward Stanley’s foot.

Stanley leaned down, picked up the jar and looked at the label. “Don’t tell me you bought this trash again? If I told you once, I told you a thousand times Mildred! I ain’t eating this slop of yours. If you can’t get it right, I am going to divorce you and send you back to the poorhouse where I found you! Do you hear me?”

He threw the jar across the room. Mildred flinched, throwing her arms up. 

CRACK!

The jar flew past Mildred, shattering against the door frame’s wooden trim above her head, raining down shards of glass and pasta sauce. 

“Now look what you made me do! You are so stupid! Get that cleaned up and you better have dinner ready now!” Stanley yelled.

Giant salty wet tears streamed down Mildred’s face. She began whimpering and breathing hard. Try as she might to keep her composure, the flood of emotions boiled out of her. Anger, rage, sadness, rejection, fear…everything all at once burst out of her as she began wailing.

Realizing she broke, Stanley got up off the couch and walked over to her. He held his hand out to hers and helped her get up off the floor. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her in closely, and brushed the tears off her face.

“There, there, my sugar plum. No need for all those tears. You know how you make me so angry sometimes, and I just can’t control it. I’m not mad at you for what you’ve done, so please don’t be mad at me for getting mad at you.”

“You know I love you, right, sugar plum?” he said.

Mildred nodded. “I’m sorry Stanley. I just got so flabbergasted with work, and then the rain, and now this big mess.”

Stanley patted her and stroked her back lovingly. “Yes, I know dear. You had a rough day. Maybe I was too hard on you,” he said.

“Anyway, forget about all of that. You are home now. You go grab some towels and cleaning stuff, then come back here and clean up. I will take the groceries into the kitchen after I used the bathroom,” he said.

Mildred looked into his eyes timidly. “You will? That would be a huge help. Thank you so much!”

Stanley gave her a little peck of a kiss on her forehead. “Anything for you, my sugar plum,” he said.

***

Mildred began cooking when the phone rang. 

“Hello.” Mildred answered.

“Hello, may I speak with Ron?” a younger woman’s voice replied.

“Oh, I apologize,” Mildred said, “but you must have the wrong number.”

“Who’s on the phone?” Stanley yelled from the bathroom.

Mildred held the receiver close to her chest, covering the handset. “It’s a wrong number Stanley. It’s some young woman calling for a man named Ron.”

“Ron? Hold on! I’ll be right there to take this call. Ron is my buddy from the Mill. He must have given her my number,” Stanley said.

“Hello again,” Mildred said. “My husband will be right with you to help. Please wait a moment.” 

“Thank you,” the woman said. Mildred set the receiver down on the phone stand and walked back to the kitchen.

Stanley picked up the phone. 

“Hello,” he said in a hushed tone. “This is Ron.”

Mildred thought she heard Stanley answer the telephone saying his name was Ron. 

I must have heard him wrong she thought.

She quit cutting the onion and listened quietly by the door.

“I thought I told you not to call here,” he said. “Yes, she is home. No, I cannot come over tonight. It will have to be this weekend. I will tell her I am going on a fishing trip with Ron.”

“I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you, sugar plum,” he said.

Mildred could not believe her ears. Fishing trip with Ron? Sugar Plum! How dare he? That’s mine. After 37 years of marriage…

She wrung her hands on her apron and walked out into the living room.

“Dinner is almost ready Stanley,” she said.

Stanley shewed her away with his hand. “I’m on the phone.”

“With your friend Ron’s girl?” she replied.

“Yeah, now will you go away?” he said. 

“From the mill, right?” Mildred asked quietly.

“Yes! Now go away! I don’t want you screwing this up for Ron,” he yelled.

Mildred wrung her hands dry on her apron and walked back into the kitchen. She began quietly humming eerily. 

The cast iron pot boiled over onto the stove top. Mildred slowly added the chopped onions, olive oil, and a bit of salt in the boiling water. She grabbed a handful of spaghetti and lowered it in. 

She opened the side drawer and pulled out the meat cleaver her father left her when he passed away. As a butcher by trade, he kept his knives razor sharp. Mildred kept it tucked away, as she did not want anyone else to use her Papa’s tools.

Milner Cutlery. Made in Chicago, IL USA.

She stared at her reflection on the blade as she read the words.

***

Irwin jaunted through the front door and walked into the living room.

“I’m home! Ma! What’s for dinner?” he yelled.

“I’m in the dining room with your supper,” she answered.

“Good, I’m starving!” He threw his jacket on the coat rack. “I got a load of books tonight. Cleaned house. Me and Mike cleaned up playing Spades. Made over $100 bucks!” he said merrily.

Irwin walked through the dining room door holding his fist full of dollars with pride in the air. “Look Pop! I cleaned house tonight…Ma, where is Pop?”

Mildred was sitting at the table. She spun a ball of spaghetti on her fork and took a bite in her right hand, while casually waiving a meat cleaver in her left.

“Come sit down son. I have your plate ready for you.”

“Sit down,” she said, patting the seat next to hers.

“Why are you holding Grandpa’s old meat cleaver like that Ma? And where is Pop?” he asked.

“Oh, this old thing,” she said. She picked held it in the light and marveled over it. “Milner Cutlery. Finest blade a man could buy back in my Father’s Day. Made in Chicago, Illinois.”

“My Papa used Milner Cutlery at his butcher shop. You know, when I was a little girl, he had me work alongside him at his shop. Taught me everything he knew about cutting meat. He thought I would be the first woman to become a butcher in our family,” she said. “I wish I had.” 

“My father used to say how he could cut through meat and bone with one good stroke of the blade.”

“I miss my Papa. He was a good man,” she said. “Never once did he raise a hand to my Mama. Never once did he betray her.” She marveled over her reflection on the blade.

“Ok. That’s weird. Why are you being so weird Ma?” he asked. “And where’s Pop?”

Mildred smiled, laid the meat cleaver down on the table and took another bite of spaghetti.

“Your father?” she replied as she twirled another bundle of spaghetti around her fork.

“He went fishing with his friend Ron.”

The End.

What’s for dinner? Adam Messer. Murder Murder Valhalla Books (2022).

© 2026 Adam Messer. All rights reserved

Subscribe to our newsletter for updates and more!