Chef Pierre

“I decided it was time to start helping around the house.  I just got tired of having to wait for dinner.  I got tired of being fussed at for not helping plan the meals for the week.  I would get home from work and be hungry but it took an hour to decide what we were going to have.  Then it took another hour or more to prepare the meal.  So I told my wife I would take over that responsibility.  I would start cooking.  I plan the meals on Saturday.  I go to the grocery store on Saturday.  After church on Sunday, I start cooking.  After the meals are cooked and cooled, I label what they are and what day they are to be cooked.  Then put them in the freezer.  Now when I get home I pull out a meal and put it in the oven.  I found out not only am I good at it, I love to cook.  I have even cooked some gourmet dishes.”

These words were supposedly spoken by a friend of mine to his wife after he supposedly got angry about finally having enough.  I firmly believe if it would have really gone down like he said; he would not have survived.  But at any rate he began to tell us on a weekly basis what his gourmet meal of the week was…“This week I fixed a shrimp bisque that would make Emerald blush with envy.”  This type talk went on for several weeks.

In the mean time, an opportunity arose for Chef Pierre (side bar: Chef Pierre is his newest nickname; he can also be found as "Charles" in Friends and "Pierre" in Friends II; ha-ha "Charles Pierre".  But he is not to be confused with "CP". I hope that does not cause issues.  Probably wouldn't have, had I not mentioned it...back to the story), CP and me to attend a professional golf event.  We had all been a few years in a row but finally decided to invite our wives.  Our host not only provided us tickets to the tournament with hospitality tent passes, but also put us up in a hotel the night before.  Spending the night before allowed us to enjoy the full day of activities at the golf tournament.  Our wives had heard about all the fun we had been having the past few years so they jumped at the opportunity to join us.

The day before we make the trip Chef Pierre, realizing it could cause uncomfortable feelings between he and his wife, informs CP and I that we should not under any circumstances bring up any mention of Chef Pierre’s new duty around the house.  Since Chef Pierre had procured the tickets for the trip, CP and I had no choice but agree to keep our mouths shut.  

CP, his wife, me and my wife decided to ride together.  Chef Pierre not quite trusting that CP and I could keep our mouths shut for four hours in the same vehicle with his wife, decided to meet us at the hotel.  “We are going to make a stop on the way up to do some needed shopping.  We did not want to drag you guys along.  We will call you when we get to the hotel so we can all go to dinner.”

On the way up, when discussing what options were available for dinner, CP and I happen to bring up the fact that maybe we should let Chef Pierre chose the restaurant.  After all with his new found love for cooking surely he would want to pick out the best food for us to enjoy.  Maybe even would be a privilege for him.  No we did not.  No, we were not breaking his rule of mentioning this to his wife – she was not in the vehicle.  The girls agreed the story as relayed by Chef Pierre had a few holes.  They were also curious about his weekly meal plan. Being good sports they agreed not to bring up the fact they knew about it.

Not long after arriving at the hotel we met and agreed on a local favorite.  Jim N Nicks BBQ in Birmingham is the best BBQ around.  BBQ is also something everyone can agree on without much discussion. We behaved at dinner; we did not say anything to Chef Pierre about his new found love of cooking.  While at dinner the girls decide it would be fun to all meet in one room to play cards and talk.  So my wife and I volunteered our room to host the card game when we returned to the hotel.

We set up the small table and pulled a few chairs from the other rooms to make a suitable card table.  We were playing cards, talking, laughing and generally carrying on.  Suddenly Chef Pierre giggles and then asks me to tell the girls the joke we had heard recently about the three ladies at lunch.  I thought out loud, “Well I guess I could clean it up some to tell in mixed company. Sure, I can tell it.” This statement silenced the ladies.  I had their full attention. So I started the joke.

The joke:
Three ladies met for lunch.  Discussions quickly lead to their marriages and love life.  The youngest had just been married.  “My husband and I love each other all night long every night.  The least little thing gets us started.  We are so in love.”  She went on and on.
 
The next lady said she had been married about ten years.  “A romantic evening for us is usually after the dinner was cooked, dishes cleaned, house picked up, kids bathed, and put to bed.  Then if I still have the energy, the romance is behind a locked door with the TV up loud.  You know, like once every blue moon.”
 
The last lady spoke up and said she was not telling how long she had been married because they may figure out her age.  “The other day I tried to spice things up though.  I bought a cute black leather outfit that I thought would knock his socks off.  My plan was to surprise him when he got home from work.  Things were falling into place perfectly.  When he got home from work, I went and put on my new outfit.  As I entered the living room he looked up from his chair and said, “Hey Batman.  What’s for dinner?”

The nano-second I get the punch line out, I make eye contact with CP.  He and I have the same vision.  He is breathless with his hands on his stomach, eyes closed, smile from ear to ear, frozen with delight.  I let a belly laugh that surely startled the piano player downstairs in the lobby.  The girls are laughing at the joke but looking at CP and me like “did we miss the punch line?”  CP’s wife then starts laughing at her husband.  My wife is looking at me like “OK - you are not that funny”.  CP and I are having trouble breathing.  The tears are flowing.  My sides are cramping up.  After a long minute or two, I eventually catch a breath to point at Chef Pierre and say “YOU’RE BATMAN!”  

Chef Pierre takes about one second to figure it out.  Not to prideful to laugh at himself he grabs his stomach sucks in the rest of the air in the room and with the big eyes explodes with a belly laugh.  My wife recognizes the meaning now, picturing Chef Pierre wearing the little black leather outfit and Mrs. Pierre sitting in the recliner saying “Hey Batman. What’s for dinner?” she falls back on the bed.  CP’s wife catches on; she doubles over in her chair.  Chef Pierre’s wife, bless her heart, is laughing just as hard as the rest of us but has not a clue we are making fun of her husband.  

When we all calmed down, CP’s wife announced she had been married to CP for a very long time but had never, never ever, seen him laugh so hard he cried, ever.  Chef Pierre in a new, edited, Sesame Street type version, told his wife about telling us how he was now cooking for the family.  

When she understood what was going on. When she understood the second meaning of the joke, adding the fact that her husband requested the joke to be told in the first place, there was another round of tearful laughter.  Good times - truly good times.