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The Wacky Cook is still not cooking, so here is another Short Story by Debbie Morgenstern

The Kitchen Sink
The sink in the kitchen had a crack. Nobody knew how it got there. It just appeared one day. As long as it did not leak, they decided to ignore it. They checked from time to time, even put a bucket under it to make sure. Nothing. Great. Ignore it. It probably would have stayed that way forever, had he not needed to go overseas and asked her to join him. Her mother agreed to move in and take care of the children. When they returned, her mother informed her that the kitchen sink was cracked and she would have to replace it. "Fine" she said "leave it to me" intending to do nothing.

But it started to bother her. Her mother, a practical-to-the-extreme-woman, would be the first one to say "I told you to change it!" if it flooded them. And so, one night, it did flood them out of the flat and they landed on her mother's doorstep. Something had to be done. She started asking around for advice and was told to go to the open-air market. Skeptical but hopeful, she went and was directed to the "sink-area". Still skeptical, but quite delighted, she found a place full of sinks! She chose one and told the nice man who was watching her to send it over to her place. "Send what over?" he wanted to know, not so nice any more. "I not send-over anything no-place!'. She just stared at him. So he shrugged and said "You have car no? I put sink into car for you. No extra charge...."

When he got home that night, she exploded! "Bring it home? HOW? Do you know how much a sink weighs?" she demanded! "They are mad, those people here, utterly and completely, mad! How am I supposed to schlep a sink home? On my back? How? Do you know how?"

In his patient, smooth, gentle way, he told her not to worry. He would find somebody who would come home to her and she would tell him what she needed. No need for her to get upset.

True to his word, the next day he gave her a number and said, with a straight face "This man is a sink-specialist; just phone him in the evening and he will..."

"A sink specialist?" She started to worry that the madness had gotten to him too.

"Just phone him, will you?" said the patient one.

She did, that evening; the fellow was willing to come over and look at her sink.

In walked the smallest man she had ever seen. He could not have been more then three foot tall. In his shoes! She had to look way down to him, but when he looked up at her, there was no nonsense there at all! He was all business; "What needs to be done lady?" he wanted to know, so she took him into the kitchen and pointed to the sink.

"Ya," said he, nodding his head. "Um, I see" looking around and giving the kitchen a quick glance. "Sure, I can replace the sink, no problem. But did you see what your marble looks like? Come on, lady! Just take a good look at it." So she looks and frankly she sees nothing wrong with her marble. True, it split in a couple of places, but she glued it together quite successfully. The chipped sides didn't bother her. So she looked at him surprised. "It's OK by me lady" he finally says "and it is none of my business. t's your kitchen and your money, but if I am going to put in a new sink, why don't you already get new marble tops? Makes sense, know what I mean, eh? Think about it."

Well, she looks at him. she looks at the marble and she doesn't know what to say. So he says "Come on lady, do it! Look, here is what I think you should do. I have this friend, who is a marble specialist. He is very good. Why don't you phone him and ask him what he thinks you should do. Then you call me and we will see. Fair?"

Marble specialist? She didn't say it out loud. No need to get him mad. But she had a feeling that she had entered some comedy skit. She looked again at the little man and nodded her head.

She phoned the friend and he agreed to come the next evening. In came another little fellow. He was just as bullish looking and just as determined. Must be a breed-of-specialists she decided, as she took him into the kitchen. He gave it a look over. "Sure the marble has got to go, lady!" He said "and it's a good time too, because when the new sink is put in, the old marble will move and it will smash into bits."

Yes, he can work with his friend together, sure! No problem! Suddenly, he looks unhappy; he turns this way and that, harrumphs a couple of times, changes legs; looks at her and then looks away from her.

"What is it?" she finally asks. "What's wrong?"

"Look lady," he seems to become shorter and she bends lower to hear him. "It's none of my business and you can tell me so, but did you look at your cabinets lately?"

"My cabinets? What cabinets? Where?" She has lost him.

"The ones under the marble and over the sink" he points. "See?"

And she looks and sees for the first time that they really are in a dreadful state. Why has she never seen it before? This really looked bad and before he could tell her that he had a friend who was a 'cabinet-specialist,' she thanked him profusely, told him that he is right and she would definitely think about what he said and before the poor fellow knew what was happening, he was out the door and she was having another fit.

"Blast the sink" she yelled at him when he came in that night, tired and hungry. "Let it leak! Who cares anyway? Specialists! Mad, all of them!"

He told her to relax and forget about it. Good idea, she decided. They could always put a bucket under the bloody sink, when it came to that...

But her peace of mind was completely destroyed; every time she walked into the kitchen, she saw the cracked sink, the broken and chipped marble and the peeling and sagging cabinets. It was depressing. Not only depressing, it was becoming a real problem.

"Why not talk to an architect friend of mine" suggested the wise one, sick and tired of seeing her miserable and tired of listening to her grumbles. She perked up. "An architect? You have one? '"

"Yes. I know one. Just talk to him. Maybe he can be of help."

It actually sounded like a marvellous idea when she thought it! Yes, why not talk to an architect? "Fine! A great idea" she said,

The architect phoned the next day. He could pop-in the following morning. She became quite excited. This could be fun!

The next morning, when she opened the door for him, he waited politely to be asked to come in. She was charmed. He was slim, of medium height, very nattily dressed in very tight navy slacks, a white shirt, and some sort of a mixed-coloured vest. A fashionably cut tweed jacket completed his attire. His hair looked as if it had just been trimmed. His smile was delightful and his complete being seemed to be ready and at her disposal and pleasure.

She was delighted! After a bit of chit-chat, she told him about her kitchen woes and he said "Tsik-tsik. Let's take a look". Standing in the kitchen absolutely still, he did not say a word. Just stood there. Finally, he asked if he could please see the rest of the flat. She gestured grandly with her hand and off he went. He was gone for quite a while and she was not sure if she should go looking for him or not. It really was a small flat. How could he get lost?

Finally, there he was. smiling charmingly. He didn't really walk, she decided. He moved in a sort of a slow glide. Lovely, she decided, just lovely.

"Yes" he said "it's really a very nice flat, full of possibilities. Why don't we try and redo it?"

"We? We do what? Redo what?" she wanted to know. "All I need is a new sink in the kitchen!"

"Oh, yes, of course you do! That's for sure. You must have that and you shall have it! But, you see..."

"Look" she stops him "I do see! And no, I..."

He takes her hand, looks into her eyes and says "No, no, dear lady, you look". Patience being given out with the architectural degrees no doubt, he continues smoothly; "Sure you need a new sink! And it should go into a new kitchen, which should be completely redone, because your present one is very badly designed and at the moment it is just awful! NOW, this will make one hell of a dreadful mess all over the flat. So why not consider the rest of it at the same time!"

"NO!" control finally gone; "NO WAY. Ridiculous! Enough! Stop! Look: I don't want to redo my flat! All I asked you about was a sink, which I need in my kitchen. I do not want anything else!' She is ready to cry.

"Well, yes. Oh me, oh my. I am so sorry, my dear lady. I did not mean to upset you! Oh dear me, oh no! Please do not cry!". Politeness also being a part of the professional makeup, he goes on smoothly; "No problem. No problem at all! You are right, absolutely right. Please forgive me! Please! I am leaving immediately, right away in fact! Terribly sorry to have been the cause of your upset! But, dear lady, do think about it. I will leave you with my little card. Please phone me at your convenience, of course" and before she could hit him on the head, which she was about to do, he was gone.

When she regained her equilibrium, she decided that he was a lunatic. Granted, a well dressed and a well-spoken one, but a lunatic nevertheless. What an idiotic idea! This was a new flat! They just moved into it not too long ago. Let the blooming sink leak! She would buy new buckets! Mad! He was absolutely and positively mad! Re-do the flat!

Life returned to normal, but she now saw her flat with other eyes. She imagined how it could look and how badly it needed changes in places. Maybe she should at least listen to what the little fellow had to say?

"Please, please phone that architect" said he to her one night, losing his famous cool. "You do not have to do anything you do not wish. But do something"

She did. "Dear lady" he purred over the phone. "I just knew you would phone. Should I come over tomorrow morning and we can start some new thinking together?"

They did not destroy the complete flat. It just felt like it. They started off very badly. Every idea he had, she hated. Every idea she presented to him, he ignored. The Lord and Master of all this, that-dear-and-patient-soul she was married to, stayed clear of both of them!

It was difficult going and they nearly came to blows, but finally things got sorted out and the architect came through with a plan she liked. Architect? She could not imagine who in his right mind would give this twit a diploma. She learned to ignore his fainting spells and dramas, his fits of depression, his preening... He assured her that they need not move out of the flat, it would be all done cleanly and in parts and not to worry. He was in charge and everything would be done under his direction. She cringed a bit at that, but having gone that far, could no longer stop. They were in too deeply already.

And so, one gray rainy day, very early in the morning, three burly men moved into the kitchen and within a very short time, got rid of all their frustrations by reducing her kitchen to a mess of gray rubble. She did not believe it. She just stood there in utter shock, totally speechless. Finally, she looked around and there stood the architect. Not a speck of dust on him, as nattily dressed as always, smiling, patting her hand, saying "It's all right, dear lady. It really is! There, there, a drink of water maybe? Not to worry; had to be done you know".

When the rubble was removed and the dust settled, three new men moved in. She had to admit, the little twit had good workers. They were polite, they were charming and very efficient. They came early in the morning and got to work. They drank coffee non-stop; four times a day she made three very strong mugs of coffee and they thanked her politely after each break. The helper-cum-shlepper put twice as much sugar into his mug as the others, mixed it well, looked at it and didn't touch it. Not even once. She didn't say anything for a few days, but finally when she could stand it no longer, she asked and was told that the man hates coffee. Never drinks the stuff...

They finished the kitchen in five days and moved into the living room, where they had to simply remove the air-conditioner from one wall and place it into another. Very simple, very neat, a quick job which should have taken them one hour, according to the slightly less-appreciated-by-now architect. When they removed the air-conditioner and blocked up the hole in the one wall, and moved it around, it all looked out of focus, and wrong. So a bit of another wall was moved this way and a bit of that wall was extended, and...

Under the strict orders of the so called architect, total destruction was created within minutes; it took four days to finish the room and there he was, looking perfect, tittering, jumping from foot to foot, all smiles, saying "Perfect! Just perfect, this is good, not to worry, dear lady! It will be perfect."

The master bedroom needed only a good paint job. They all agreed on that! So when she heard an anguished howl from that little excuse of a man, she came running; "What?" she asked. "What's wrong? What's happened to you?"

"What's wrong?" He is in pain and she was ready to call the doctor! "Dear, dear lady, just look! LOOK. This will never do, never, never, never! No, no, no! I can not have this!" He is ready to faint.

"What is your problem?" she demands. He points to the air conditioner cable on the floor behind the chest of drawers. And before she can ask "So what?" the creep somehow manages to get her out of the room and within minutes it seemed to her, a tunnel is dug into the wall, the cable disappears into it, the wall was repaired, but the bedroom looks as if a cyclone had hit it. She has hysterics. Where would they sleep that night? Ready to kill the pest, she went looking for him, but cleverly he was nowhere to be found. He just disappeared! They moved into a hotel for the night.

The last job was very easy and that's why it was left for the last. It would be quick and neat and they would be out of her hair. All they had to do was build up a wall where a door leading to nowhere was letting in all the rain and wind and make a frame for a new window, which was ordered and delivered. Simple. They all agreed, had another cup of coffee and went to work. The crash, when it came, was heard half-way around Tel Aviv; all her neighbours came running up to find out what happened and they all wanted to know how many got killed. She stood stock still. Did not dare to breath. The sudden silence terrified her. She flew into the room. Dust and grime flew into her face. It was flying everywhere. But there stood the three workmen, gray dust covering them from head to toe, unmoving, unhurt and smiling! There was a collective sigh of relief and normal breathing replaced panic. They hit the main foundation beam of the house, and it just came crashing down!

The little prick of an architect was nowhere to be found. She vowed to kill him the minute he did turn up, but in the meantime she got rid of her neighbours. The team, after checking for breaks, decided it really was not a disaster at all and started extricating themselves and everything else from under the rubble, which used to be a room. She made some more coffee and she finally hit the bottle. It was the only way to survive, she decided. Feeling a bit more human, walking toward the messy room, she practically tripped over a tiny little man, looking around and smoking a cigarette. She was convinced that she was seeing things. The drink was not such a good idea after all, she decided. She needed the bloody prick-of-an-architect and this did not look like him at all! Very small, very slim, and very black. She looked again and he suddenly came to attention, grinned from ear-to-ear with very white teeth, bowed deeply and announced: "I am the painter."

"You are the painter" she repeated still stunned.

"Yes," he said, trying to make himself look taller. "I am to paint your flat, yes? If it is all right with you, yes?" he hesitated. "Not all right?"

She shrugged, took another look at him and decided, what the hell! After what went on here, if this little fellow can cope with this mess, the job is his, today! A brilliant smile broke up the charming face. The cigarette was tossed into the rubble. He bowed again and extended his hand. They shook in stark silence and he said "not today. Not possible today, tomorrow..." and poof, he was gone. She looked around, tried to find him and decided that he was a mirage. For sure!

But, the next morning, there he was and what a giant of a man he turned out to be! Nothing was too hard or too heavy, nor too difficult for him. Nothing was impossible! He needed strong coffee with lots of sugar. He never ate anything and never complained. He smiled all the time and did his job superbly! Serenity and finally peace returned to her world, with this wonderful little man.

It was not easy, but then what is? They didn't get everything they wanted, but then who does? They were no longer on speaking terms with the sneaky little devil of an architect. He was fired after the main-beam-crash, by the Lord and Master-himself. He was lucky the little idiot, because she planned a most unpleasant death for him! They owed him half of his money, but he must have suspected what awaited him, because there was no sign of him.

Her husband did not divorce her and she did not have to join Alcoholics Anonymous. The flat was beginning to show signs of wear, but she would not hear of any repair or workmen. No, she had learned her lesson and nothing would disturb her little world any more. Nothing. At least not for a very long time. And if something in the very distant future cracked, she will just ignore it, because she knows very well, that she will crack right along with it...

Send your questions to The Wacky Cook: email: debbiemorgenshtern@gmail.com      

Debbie Morgenstern is the author of "My Life in Israel" and other short stories.
"My Life in Israel" can be purchased by accessing this link: "My Life in Israel"