Destiny Love Kinara
Fucking Furnace!

“Gosong again?!” Kinara placed a plate containing artificial serabi Dika on the table. Puckered his lips then looked irritatedly at Dika. “This is already the tenth. And Mas still hasn't managed to make it. Can I eat this stuff? How about I get a stomachache?” his snoring while leaning his head on the chair.

Dika looked long while playing his finger.

"Why would you give up?”

“Of course not, Madam.” He smiled and walked back.

Back to Ken's place.

“Do you record everything correctly?” Dika hits Ken's arm. “This is already the tenth. How long are we gonna be in front of this fucking furnace?!" Cursing serabi furnace.

“I recorded it correctly, Young Master. Really am. See this.” Open a notebook. My hands until curly noted what the seller said earlier. Even the sound of his breath

just

logged.” Ken explained fieryly. It had been almost two hours that he had been in front of the flaming serabi furnace, but the results remained out of Kinara's favor. The clothes on his body were soaked with sweat.

“Indeed how does his breath sound?” Dika looked up, saw Ken's writing.

“Haaaah ... Like that.” Ken.

“Hahaha .. You are right. The serabi seller was even exhausted because we asked constantly, but could not understand. He got angry and asked ‘Have you never eaten a school bench?’.” Dika also imitated the voice of the serabi seller.

Ken laughed when he remembered that. The serabi seller was really annoyed with the brains of Dika and ken who he considered only as big as corn kernels. “He thinks we're termites, Young Master. School bench time at makan.”

Both of them laughed out loud until their shoulders shook. Unknowingly the eleven serabi was charred again. “Ahhh .. gosong again!” Dika snorted annoyed as soon as he saw his serabinya scorched again.

“Ahhh .. I'm tired." Ken rolled around in the grass. He can't take it anymore. His face was already black due to the smoke from the serabi furnace.

Dika's work only pours serabi dough and lifts serabi when it is ripe. Who bothers of course Ken. He prepared everything, from lighting a fire on a furnace, stirring the ingredients

base serabi, to keep the fire in the furnace does not die. Meanwhile, Kinara? He was sitting in a long chair. Leaning his body comfortably while reading a fairy tale book. Enjoy the time relaxed.

“Let's do it again!” Dika emphasized his voice.

Ken crawled closer to Dika who was preparing to pour the twelve dough into the mold. “Young Master. Please send me to South Africa, I'll just raise giraffes. I'm more optimistic about breeding giraffes than making serabi.”

Dika smiled cunningly. “For this time I will not send you to South Africa.” Wiggling his index finger.

“Then?” Ken's forehead wrinkled.

“I'll send you directly to see angel Izrail!” said Dika with perfectly rounded eyes. His hand was holding the spatulla. He did a neck slashing motion with that spatulla.

Ken swallowed his saliva. “Ha .. ha ... ha ...” Dramatic laughing. “I'll do it, Young Master. Even if you have to repeat it hundreds of times. I'll make the perfect serabi.” Ken was already sitting in front of the furnace with a languishing look.

“Good.” Dika gave his thumb. Ken laughed dramatically again as he poured the serabi dough into the mold. Please, God. This one has to work.

“How many minutes should we wait for him?” ask Dika.

“See the note, Young Master.” Ken's still focused on his legs.

“Here it says two minutes.”

“What's been two minutes?” ask Ken.

He saw the clock in his hand.

“How, Mr?”

“My hand clock is off.” She smiled broadly without guilt.

“Arrrg ..!” Ken dropped his body again on the grass for the second time. “I can't take it anymore. How could an expensive clock die, Young Master?” ask Ken, annoyed.

“Hey, humans can die. Clock time cannot.”

That's ‘kan only your defense, Young Master. “We just lift.” Ken read do’a hopefully this time the results are satisfactory.

“Piercing! Puncture!” said Dika suddenly which made Ken aghast.

“What was stabbed?” Ken scrunched his forehead. You think this is a balloon?

“You wrote here. What do you mean by the word skewer?” Dika shows the writing of ‘tusuk’ written by Ken.

“Ah, I just remembered. We prick the dough, if it does not stick it means it is mature.” Ken turned his head looking for anything he could use to stab a serabi. “Me.” He stabbed directly with a fork. “See.” Show it to Dika.

Ken shifted. Dika prepared with his spatulla, and ... “Ahhh .. gosong again. Why are you talking to me, it's been two minutes.” Dika curses Ken. The one being scolded could only squeeze the grass with a face of despair.

Though ‘kkan you are the one who asked me to talk, am I the only one who is tormented here? Who is Madam's husband? Me or you, Young Master? inner Ken.

“How now?” Dika throws serabi into the twelfth that is charred. “Even cats just don't want to eat this, what else is my son!” gerutu, “This is not serabi, but firewood. Ahhh ..” Dika rubbed his face rough, the surface of his hand black because of the serabi moved to the face.

“Master, your face is black.” Ken held onto his stomach to hold back the laughter. It could be dangerous if Dika realizes Ken is making fun of him.

When annoyed, he rubbed the burnt serabi with his palm and put it on Ken's face. “Feel that. I should've rubbed this furnace in your face!"

“A-fire, fire is dead!” Ken's hysterical. He moved quickly to blow away the furnace whose fire was almost extinguished, Ken coughed.

“Ah, I'm so upset!” Dika's awake. Ruffling her hair. “It looks like I have to exercise in order for the anger in my heart to diminish. One, two, one, two.” Running in place.

“How about the fire, Mister?” Ken pointed at the furnace. “It died perfectly,”. Ken threw the slippers he was wearing. “I'm frustrated!”

Dika did not care, he kept running in place until sweaty hair filled his handsome face.

“Master, how about this?” Ken showed me the two serabis they made. “It looks like this one isn't too charred!”

“You want to give that to my wife and child?” Dika glares.

“No!”

“You should try it let you know what it feels like.” Forcibly take the serabi out of Ken's hands. “Open your mouth!”

Ken shook his head with a look of a fisherman.

“See open, or I'll call the angel Izrail to meet you.”

Ken had to open his mouth.

“Yang width.”

It's wide already. What do you want to be so wide again? Am I a stepson? Are you a cruel father and stepmother? Ken opened his mouth wider. Dika put in the charred serabi he made.

“How?”

Ken tuned in a suffering expression. “Pahit, Young Master,” said.

Instead of pity, Dika laughed out loud.

“Are you guys going to keep joking like that? If the clan acts like a child. When is the sweet serabi so?”

Ken's up soon. Standing beside Dika. “A minute, Madam,” said Ken and Dika together. Dika even bent his body to follow Ken.

Both of them were already sitting in front of the furnace. Ken managed to light the fire with tremendous effort.

“Master why did you come calling as Madam? You ‘kan her husband.”

“Entahlah. Maybe my brain is too tired, I am afraid just because we can get into the hospital,” said Dika while wiping the sweat on his face.

"That could happen, sir. I even feel my legs drift."

"Really! Me either. It's like my head isn't stuck to my neck."

When two men are tormented Kinara is actually laughing when reading a fairy tale pinocchio.

"My wife is so happy. While we are suffering," said Dika.

"Maybe it's fate, Young Master." Ken chimed.

"It has. We'll continue cooking again."

And that grueling Sunday ended after the 30th serabi was successfully made by Dika.

Seriate....

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