Fred lays back in his favourite recliner two weeks after heart surgery. A cooking show is on the television and his mouth waters as the chef digs into a burger. The juices drip down the chef’s chin as he chews on the beefy goodness.
The clatter of his wife’s cooking comes from the kitchen next to the lounge. Fred’s pulled out of his dream state as a sulfury stench comes wafting into the lounge. “Fwah, what the hell’s that?”
“Your dinner. You’ll love it,” says Ivy as she stirs the cabbage on the stove.