BBQ FROM HELL

The Barbeque From Hell
My skin was slowly burning as I flipped the sizzling circles of meat on my Foreman Grill. I didn’t like to use coal because of all the smoke, and gas was too expensive, so this little electric grill was my solution. It also supposedly drained some of the liquid fat, but the orange extension chord running through the doggy door from the kitchen running across the lawn ruined the authenticity of a barbeque. The sun was out, my wife was enjoying playing host for our neighbors, and our children were enjoying the new kiddy pool from Toys R’ Us. There weren’t many bugs out and I was enjoying being surrounding by people having a good time. A good time that I was supplying them with.
“Hey Bill!”
My name is William. And he knows I hate being called “Bill.”
“Billy boy! Hell of a barbeque ya got here, huh? Besides the fact that your dinky little grill can only spit out a burger an hour.” He slapped me on the back of the neck as he said hour. Normally this would hurt about a 3 on the scale of 1 to 10. But with the severe sunburn on the back of my neck, I would have to rank it at a 6 out of 10.
“This grill is friendly to the environment and drains fat from the burgers.” I said in defense of my “dinky” electric grill. Its not like I had invented the damn thing, the guy just gets on my nerves.
“C’mon Bill! The fat is the best part. Your doing it all wrong anyway, you gotta flip these things the right way or they end up tasting like dog food. Mine sure did.” He proceeded to snatch the spatula from my hands. He had disrespected my name, my grill, and my grilling abilities. The redness that should have been shown in my face was hidden by the terrible sunburn I had received making those “dog food” burgers for that jackass.
The last barbeque I was at with this guy did not end well. He said something sexually inappropriate about my wife, and the conflict ended up with the police being called, and myself being tazered and urinating in pants. Since then I had taken several anger management classes and gone to several therapists. There had been no conflicts for about a year.
“I’m gonna level with you here, Bill. The only good thing about this party is the fact that I get to stare at the two hams your wife calls an ass.”
That was it.
The plate that had been collecting the liquid fat from my Foreman Grill seemed to fly to my hand and immediately be splashed into his face.
“Yeah, your right. The fat is the best part.”
He began to flail the spatula like bees were attacking him. He may have been attempting to defend himself but it seemed like another attack. I followed the liquid fat with the whole electric grill itself. I picked it up with both hands and throw it into his face like an inbounds throw from a soccer game.
While he was dazed I was analyzing which sauce would sting more in the wounds forming on his face. I had to decide between the A1 steak sauce and the Texas Pete hot sauce. The cayenne peppers from the sauce would be effective. As soon as the hot sauce connected with his head, one of my feet was being driven into his sternum. He splashed into the kiddy pool, and my youngest son began driving his baby fist into his eye. A smirk flashed across my face as I joined my son. Before I could land another punch I felt a sharp pain in my side as I went limp and urinated in my children’s new kiddy pool from Toys R’ Us.