The Great Danish Heist
We like to buy the danish pack from Costco. These packs come with twelve danishes. The three flavors, in order of Chrissie preference are, apple, blueberry and cherry. The cherry ones are, in my opinion, too tart and so I leave them to Kevin who (as far as I can tell) has no danish preference whatsoever. This means that the standing rule in our house is no one gets to eat the apple danishes except for me. Simple rule, no? Well, this weekend it was horribly violated.
Picture it. Sunday morning, 9:30am, Kevin is up and about while I am catching up on my beauty sleep. Hungry, Kevin decides to bring up a danish pack from the freezer in the basement. He rips it open and removes a non-apple danish. (What a guy!) He is, however, in a rush as he wants to hit Home Depot before the crowds and so he leaves the open flat of danishes in the kitchen and heads out the door. So far, no violation of the danish rule, right? Bear with me, its coming.
Kevin shops for wood, I sleep like the dead, and unbeknownst to either of us, the great danish tragedy is underway.
Kevin returns from Home Depot to find that someone has ripped into the danish supply. Three of the four apple danishes are completely gone. Gobbled up no doubt without a speck of evidence left behind. However, there are two partially eaten cherry danishes still on the ground. Upon closer inspection, Kevin realized that the culprit had carefully eaten around the cherry filling, nibbling only the outer pastry, and leaving that cherry remains strewn across the kitchen floor. Oddly enough, the blueberry danishes went untouched.
The culprit was easily located on the sofa. When confronted, he confessed all, rolling onto his back, exposing his now engorged belly, tail beating wildly, ears back, with a very sad - I’m-so-sorry-but-I’m-just-a-dog-and-you-shouldn’t-have-tempted-me-by-leaving-them-open-and-within-my-reach look.
And so, when I rolled out of bed at eleven or so looking, I might say, quite beautiful, Kevin had to break the bad news. From the fresh pack of twelve danishes, only six survived that morning and a mere one apple left. The danish rule was horribly violated. But really, I can’t blame Artie. The apples are, by far, the best tasting of the group. My dog has good taste, I’ll give him that.