Masterchef Meg
By Postcard
Ratings: - G. Holiday related. Humour.
Pairings: - None.
Teaser: - Meg knows how to punish her subordinates.
Spoilers: - None.
Disclaimer: - The Due South characters in this story are not mine and anything else Due South isn't mine either. I do not mean to infringe on copyrights held by any copyright holders for Due South. The story however is mine (copyright May 2000 by Postcard on all original story content.) Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading without the written consent of author. This story is not written for profit and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.
Author’s note: - This story is for everyone who has ever been brave enough to eat my cooking and lived to tell the tale<BG>Now, come on, my cooking wasn't that bad! I hope that you enjoy reading this story and any constructive comments are welcome at postcard@manutd.com
Today was payback time. During the year when the insanity of the consulate nearly got too much for her, looking forward to this day kept Meg going. Balancing three carefully wrapped identical boxes in her arms; Meg walked into the Canadian Consulate.
"Ah! Happy Canada Day Sir!" Fraser and Turnbull greeted her in unison.
Meg beamed around at them all. "Yes, Happy Canada Day Constables, Ovitz." Ovitz grunted and nodded his head.
Placing the boxes onto Ovitz' desk, Meg lightly patted the top of one of them. "I've brought you all my annual present."
Meg tried her hardest not to laugh as she heard Ovitz mutter under his breath, "oh God no! Not again!"
Meg put on the most innocent look that she possibly could. "Did you just say something Ovitz?"
"Oh! Erm, no."
Picking one of the boxes up, Meg handed it to Fraser, saying; "that one's for you Fraser."
"Erm…thank you kindly Sir. But you know, you really shouldn't have."
"Nonsense Fraser, it's my pleasure." Meg grinned at him.
"No, really Sir; you shouldn't have." Fraser spoke more to himself than to her.
Meg watched, amused, as Ovitz and Turnbull emphatically nodded their heads in agreement. "Constable Fraser's right Sir, you really shouldn't have," Turnbull backed Fraser up.
"Why not? Every day to my wonder, you all constantly do things that I really think you shouldn't do, it's only fair that I return the favour!" So that they wouldn't get suspicious, Meg watered down what she'd said by smiling at them all. They all nervously smiled back. None of them attempted to answer 'why' she 'shouldn't have.'
Meg picked up a second box and thrust it into Turnbull's hands. "And this one's yours Turnbull."
"Ttthank you Sir." Turnbull looked at the box in his hands with dread. Meg noticed that both Constables held the boxes at arms length, as though there was a bomb in them.
Meg shoved the last box across the desk towards Ovitz. "Well, aren't you going to open them!"
The three men looked at one another for moral support. It was clear to Meg that none of them wanted to make the first move. But ever the gentleman, Fraser didn't want to offend the Inspector and so under her watchful gaze he slowly began to undo the small red box.
On opening the box, Fraser's fear as to what the contents would be was confirmed. "Ah! You're home-made biscuits Sir!"
"Yes. I made them especially for you all from my own secret recipe." Meg grinned proudly at him.
Deciding that they might as well get it over with, Turnbull and Ovitz undid their boxes. To their dismay they revealed the same contents as Fraser.
"Aren't you going to try them?" Meg asked.
Feeling like guinea pigs, the three men looked down at the circular burnt substances that the Inspector thought passed for 'biscuits.' Reluctantly, they all reached into their box and gingerly picked up a biscuit. Taking a deep breath, they placed the biscuit in their mouth and tired not to gag at the vile taste. Cautiously, they all bit into their concrete-like biscuit, knowing that if they weren't careful they would need a trip to the dentist.
Watching the looks of queasiness on their faces as they ate, a broad smile lit up Meg's face.
In an attempt to get rid of the revolting stuff, all three of them chewed as quickly as possible. Finally, getting around to swallowing, each of them felt that they were going to vomit and turned a nice shade of bottle green.
"So? What do you think?" Meg looked expectantly at them.
Fraser didn't want to lie to her, but at the same time he didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Very…unique," was the best he could come up with.
"Ummm, delicious." Ovitz lied.
"Have you thought about giving these to the prisoners?" Turnbull commented.
Trying to suppress their laughter, Fraser and Ovitz nearly choked.
"What do you mean?" Meg glared at him and Turnbull gulped.
Fraser came to Turnbull's rescue and quickly intervened. "I think that Turnbull meant that the prisoners don't get to have home-made biscuits, especially not of this calibre and the kind gesture might teach them a thing or two! Turn over a new leaf, that sort of thing!"
"Oh! Right!" Meg knew full well that that wasn't what Turnbull meant. She consoled herself knowing that Turnbull's punishment had only just started. Meg laughed on the inside. The biscuits hadn't started to work their way through his system yet!
Smiling smugly to herself, Meg walked away from them, towards her office. She knew that they hated the biscuits because they were like rock and also because when they finally did manage to bite into them they tasted foul. She could cook. In fact, she was an excellent cook. She made the biscuits like that deliberately. It was her present to herself to stand by and watch them all eat the putrid tooth breaking biscuits that she had made. It was therapeutic for her. She knew that no matter how much they detested the biscuits, they'd never refuse to eat them and it made up for all of the trouble they'd caused her throughout the year.
When she was safely out of earshot, Ovitz gestured to the card attached to each box. "I wonder what she's put on the card? Do you think it's the safety warning? Because these things definitely should come with one!"
Reading their cards they discovered that it wasn't a 'safety warning,' just a polite greeting: -
Happy Canada Day
Best wishes
Inspector Thatcher
"Yeah! Best wishes! I think from that poison she calls 'biscuits,' she wishes us dead!" Remarked Ovitz.
"What are we going to do with them?" Turnbull desperately asked.
Simultaneously they all looked at Dief and dropped their boxes down onto the floor in front of him. But even Dief wouldn't eat them. The wolf whined in disgust before padding off down the hall.
Ovitz pointed to the biscuits and grimaced. "What on earth does she put in these?"
"I have no idea, but I need the bathroom." Fraser clutched his stomach.
Suddenly Ovitz doubled over in discomfort. "Yep, me too."
"So do I." Turnbull cried and started to retch.
Elbowing one another aside, they all rushed towards the bathroom shouting, "I'm first, out of my way."
While her subordinates fought for the bathroom, Meg sat behind her desk, laughing. Standing up she walked to her office door and opening it, she spied Dief in the hall and discreetly called him over. The wolf obediently slipped into her office and she closed the door.
Meg walked over to her handbag and under Dief's intent gaze; she took out a small box. Dief's eyes lit up as she opened it and held the contents out to him. "No, I hadn't forgotten you. I know how much you like my cooking. Here you go Dief. This one's the proper batch of biscuits."
Patting Dief's head, Meg said, "just don't tell the other's ok? Remember, this is our secret!"
"WOOF!" Dief confirmed and licked her ankle, causing her to giggle. Meg and Dief then sat down together on the sofa in her office, contentedly munching on Meg's home-made biscuits.