Pumpkin for Dinner

Words for Wednesday

is a writing prompt that can be found at 

Under the Porchlight
http://ramblingsoftheterminallyaging.blogspot.com/

This weeks words are: 

Gelatinous, feasible, hybrid, squirm, maintenance, casserole

          Her hands encased in her very favorite puce potholders, Penelope extracted the steaming casserole from the oven.
Her tiny Pomeranian, named Pumpkin because of his delightfully orange color, squirmed in anticipation and snapped his sharp little teeth at her. The chicken and rice would have to cool a bit before her diminutive roommate could share it with her, but that shouldn’t take too long.

      Penelope hadn’t thought it would be feasible to stay on the maintenance diet that Dr. Dithers had prescribed, but with Pumpkin joining her now at meals, it was all working out nicely. Soon they would both settle into the cozy breakfast nook decorated with strawberry wallpaper, strawberry curtains, and strawberry dishes – so adorable (even if it did clash with Pumpkin’s coloring. And Penelope’s flaming orange hair that she had just had touched up at Constance’s Kasa of Kurl. Constance had assured her that the shade was the perfect choice for someone with her coloring – and Penelope was sure that now her age-spots were barely noticeable.)

          Penelope took the lid off the casserole to let it cool, cracked the kitchen door for air, and switched on the small television on her kitchen counter. Sadly, her very favorite show, The Crochet Club, had ended and the news was on. She lowered herself to a chair, her generous thighs overlapping its edges as Pumpkin nipped in irritable anticipation at her ankles. 

          “. . . .and the power plant is cautioning all residents to remain inside for the next several hours. There has apparently been a minor mishap with an experiment in a hybrid power source combining heating oil and by-products from Cracker Barrel restaurants. Authorities assure us there is no cause for concern as the mass is slow moving and, oriented as it is to fried chicken, a threat only to small life forms.”

          Penelope smelled a faint whiff that reminded her of Sunday dinners at her grandmother's and then heard a small gelatinous slurping noise. She turned to the door just in time to see Pumpkin pulled outside, his tiny teeth still bared as they snapped impotently at the air.