Chapter 3
“Well...Umm I guess you would start with the sauce...”
“Did we buy sauce?” she asked.
“Umm...” Spike said, who was now sitting on the counter top and looking through the bags “No.... but we have stuff to make it with.”
“Like what?”
“Um, lets see here, we have tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, green pepper...”
“Do those things go in spaghetti sauce?” Buffy asked.
“How am I supposed to know? Besides, anything else we have couldn’t possibly go in it,” Spike told her.
“Well, do we have any of the actual sauce? I mean, we can’t make our own...can we?”
Spike just shrugged.
“Well I don’t think we have any...” Buffy said, looking through the cupboards.
“Use salsa,” Spike suggested.
“Really? Will that work?”
“I dunno, try it and see... if it’s really bad no one will say anything anyway,” Spike said, smirking at her.
“You’re right,” she said smiling. “Come on, let’s get started.”
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William sat in his writing desk, composing what would soon be one of his latest poems. ‘Ah, what a lovely day’ he thought. ‘It’s so beautiful’ as soon as he woke up this morning he took a look outside, and he just simply had to sit down a write about how beautiful the day looked.
“There,” He said, once his poem was complete.
“All finished,” He tucked the piece of paper into his jacket and was off downstairs to breakfast.
“Good morning, William,” His mother greeted once he was seated to the table.
“Good morning, Mother, Father,” William’s father, Charles, was sitting at the table as well, reading the morning newspaper.
“Morning, William,” his Father spoke. “You’re up rather late this morning, it’s nearly 9’Oclock”
“Y-yes, W-well that b-because I was- well when I woke up this morning- the outs-side was so beautiful I-I wrote a poem about...”
“OH!! You wrote a poem! Lets hear it then,” Encouraged his mother.
“It’s not very good...”
“Oh, nonsense,” she told him. “Come on, read it, you write lovely poems.”
“Yes, my boy, let’s hear it then.”
William read his poem, although he didn’t want to. His mother, of course, always loved them, but his father always found some way to criticize them...and him. Nothing he could do would make his father proud of him...he was weak.
“William! That was wonderful,” Ann said happily, she obviously loved his poem, as any mother would.
“Its just scribbles,” William would say that every time his mother would complement his poetry...of course she was the only one who ever did.
“Of course it is, you couldn’t have possibly put any thought into a poem like that,” Is what is Father would always say, then he would add “Only women would write such sappy verses,” and then he would use an example from his poem, and of course he would then always say... “You’re too weak, we need to toughen you up. When are you going to become a man? Nearly 24 and still not one single girl had taken your fancy, and do you care to know why? It’s because your too sensitive, too soft hearted and those are not attractive features in a man...we must toughen you up” and as usual William would just sit there taking in every word. Is that really why no woman would look at him...every girl he ever fancied turned him down... maybe his father was right...maybe he did need to toughen up.
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“Spike, that’s enough onions!”
“I barley have any in there!”
“Spike, 6 onions are enough.”
“How many people you got comin’, luv?”
“Umm...You, me, Dawn, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya...so that’s 7...and what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you need to put in one of everything according to the amount of people that are coming.”
“No, you don’t”
“Yes, you do!”
“How would you know? You don’t know anything about cooking either, remember?”
“Yeah, but everybody knows you have to put the same amount of everything according to the amount of people coming.”
“Really?”
“Yes really, you really don’t know anything about cooking, do you?”
“Yeah...I know...some stuff...Ok, so if you’re putting in 6 onions, then I have to put in 6 green peppers?” Buffy asked
“Yeah, everything has to be equal. But we have 7 people comin' luv.”
“So I put in 7 little mushrooms?”
“No, go by the packs.”
“7 packs of mushrooms?? That seems like a lot of food, Spike. Are we gonna be able to eat all this?”
“Just think about it this way luv, every one can eat 1 onion, 1 green pepper, 1 pack of mushrooms and 1 bottle of salsa...right?”
“Yeah...I guess so. Hey! That’s why my grocery bill was so big.... you put like a million of everything in the cart!”
“Well aren’t you glad I did pet? Otherwise we wouldn’t have enough to feed everyone.”
“Ya, guess you’re right...so 7 packs of spaghetti?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Hey! That’s ten onions...”
“I can eat 4.”
“Whatever Spike.”
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It was a crisp, clear night in 1879 and William was invited to a party. He was running a little late and he was debating on whether to take one of his latest poems... they never like them. He thought. They always make fun of me and laugh. No! I will not read my poem tonight. But I will bring a pen and some paper just in case an idea happens to strike me.
“I’m off to the party, Mother,” William said as he passed her on the way out.
“Ok dear, please be sure to check in with me when you return.”
“I will, Mother,” and with that he was gone.
He arrived at the party about 10 minutes later.
“Hello William, how are you on this fine evening?”
“Oh q-quite well, and yourself?”
“Oh, I’m just splendid...I have some big news, but I mustn’t announce it until later this evening.”
“Oh I-I see, well congratulations on your big new, I-I’m sure it’s w- wonderful.”
“Yes, Thank-you William,” Just then a lovely young lady by the name of Susan approached them.
“Hello William, I’m glad you could make it.”
“H-h-hello S-s-s-Susan,” William greeted darting his eyes away shyly. He liked Susan she was beautiful, she had long medium brown hair that was always tied back into a bun. Her eyes were brown and she was wearing a long dress as all the women did in the 18th century, it was blue with a white trim...and she looked absolutely stunning. William felt like asking her if maybe she would accompany him out to lunch, or perhaps a play one evening...but he couldn’t do. He could never build up enough courage to ask anyone......God I’m such a ponce...
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“How do I know if this is cooked?” Buffy asked.
“I dunno, eat one...”
Buffy looked at the spaghetti noodles in the pot, she highly doubted they were done.
“Ok, they are so not supposed to be hard...right?”
“No, their not and help me with the sauce”
“Your not done that yet?”
“No...I’m still putting in the salsa...should we salt this?”
“I dunno...taste it...see if it’s salty,” She told him, still looking at her noodles in the pot. “Maybe were supposed to bake them?” she asked
“No, I watched this show once and they were making spaghetti and they used the top part,” Spike told her.
“Really? What did is say to put it on?” she asked
“I didn’t say”
“It was passions wasn’t it?”
“Yeah...”
“Maybe it’s cooked now,” she tried another one. “Nope...still hard...how long does it take?”
“Do you have any cook books Slayer?”
“I doubt it will have a recipe for spaghetti...” She said with a sorta dazed look on her face as she watched her noodles in the pot.
“Does this need to be cooked? Or heated of something?” Spike asked stirring the sauce.
“Umm, yeah lets heat it up at least...”
“Right.” Spike put the pot that held the sauce on the stove and turned it up on high. He glanced over at Buffy's pot to see what the problem was.
“Ah...Slayer?”
“Yeah?”
“You have to turn it on...”
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