The Casserole

When I heard that Trent was going to be on Sportsbeat last night, I knew that I would be too cold for him to eat me when he got home, and my creator, Mrs. Whiting, decided to throw me down the disposal. It was awful.

There I was, this delicious masterpiece; a mixture of wonderful ingredients, and nobody to eat me. What a shame that he didn't come home in time to partake of me. I wish that he could of seen the horrified look on Mrs. Whitings face when she saw him on Sportsbeat.

I overheard a conversation that they had earlier as he said that he was only taking the garbage out and that he would be back in a minute. She told him not to be long, for she had a delicious meal in the oven waiting for him. Boy was she in for a surprise.

Time went by, and he never returned. I began to cool as she nervously paced the floor, looking at her watch and mumbling things I couldn't really understand (I'm just a casserold after all). I noticed that she had set the table so nicely for them to enjoy eating me.

She finally decided to turn on the television at 10:00 to watch the news and see if anything had happend to him. It was towards the end of the news that she heard Tom Kirkland mention the unspeakable. She noticed that her dear little Trenty (as she often calls him at home) was on the tube; she was horrified and let out a shrill like I have never heard her before. She began to weep.

She waited up for him that night. It was late when I heard him come through the door. Uh-oh, I thought to myself. This is going to be awful. Mrs. Whiting began to yell at poor Trenty saying that this was the same kind of stuff that she had to put up with when he was playing for that "Gentile University" to the north, that she never knew when he was going to be home up there, and that if he was going to pull a stunt like this again, he would have to make his own casserole in the future. She told him about how she had prepared me, a delicious casserole, for this special occasion of being co-champs of the conference. And then, it happened. She began to dice me up and throw me down the disposal. That was the last I heard of the conversation.

> .....I must have been under a rock, but what in the world
> happened with Whitings wife and food and Rick Majerus?? I must
> have missed the story.

You must be talking about the "incident". Well, it all started when Trenty (as Mrs. Whiting calls him) would come home daily from practice complaining of some awful leg aches. Mrs. Whiting would spend all day working on me, trying to make me as tasty as possible for her cute little Trenty. Adding spices, Corn Flakes, potatoes, and secret ingredients that I can't disclose here, all to make her Trenty happy.

I would watch Mrs. Whiting get frustrated as she glanced at the clock now and again waiting for the moment Trent would walk in. Sometimes he would come home by 6:30, while other times he didn't walk through the door until nearly 10:00pm. It was hard for her to keep me warm all that time, and still have me taste delicious and fresh!

No matter what time it was though, he always had the same routine.

Trenty would walk through the door as it slammed behind him
and instantly start complaining about how mean old Majerus would push him to his limit every single day in practice. He would sit down in his recliner and Mrs. Whiting would bring him his slippers and a piping hot plate of me that she would heat up in the microwave.

Well, to make a long story short, Mrs. Whiting began to get fed up with the way Trenty was being treated, and the way he was acting for that matter. After all, she new that he really didn't have a "leg condition" but that he was just a little on the chicken leg side, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, one night, after Trenty came home and had gone to bed, Mrs. Whiting made me, a delicious casserole as she is so often known to do. Along with me was a note explaining that there would be more where this came from if her Trenty was eased up on in practice.
She snuck up to that hotel on the mountain with me in her hands and knocked on a certain coaches door. Her plan was to sneak away and leave the me at the door, but with that coaches sniffer, he could smell me coming a mile away. He opened the door right as she was laying me on the doormat.

Well, Mrs. Whiting's face became instantly flushed and she stuttered as she tried to explain what was going on. I was laughing throughout this whole incident because Majerus was standing there in only his boxers and Mrs. Whiting kept glancing down to his mid-section trying to see if those stories her Trenty had told her were true. You know, the ones about how he shows his players how far away they should defend the guy they are guarding.

Well, to close the story, Majerus took me into his apartment, slammed the door while shouting that Trenty was just a whimp and that he just couldn't handle the practices, and that Trenty would never be given a break in practice. He then gobbled me up and licked the pan clean and was never visited by Mrs. Whiting again.

I've been busy the past couple of weeks. I graduated a couple of weeks ago with a bachelor of casseroles, emphasis in Velveeta and EZ Cheese, and was recently accepted into the MBA program at the U by the catering service, taking the position formerly held by finger sandwiches, funeral potatoes and green jello and started being served in that program immediately following graduation.

Being this close to the adminisration at all times, I tend to hear alot about what is going on related to the University. Apparently the dean of the business school - Jack Brittain, and Chris Hill are very good friends and tend to talk alot.

As I was being served on Dr. Brittain's plate the other day, I overheard a conversation between he and another faculty member that gave me the following information:

Apparently, the reason that the U is losing so many players to BYU lately is because Steve Cleveland is secretly meeting with them, promising them to do his best to get them at least an additional two years of playing time, by lobbying to the MWC, if they transfer to BYU. Unfortunately, the players falling for this ridiculous notion are the players with the lowest IQ, and are hence, buying into this crazy idea.

It doesn't stop there though. There have also been promises made of reduction in the percentage of tithing required, a date with Nathan Cooper or Mrs. Whiting (depending on which you prefer), and allowing the players special priveleges like walking on the grass on campus and being out after 12:00 pm on Friday night.

Trenty was the first who bought into this (which isn't too surprising to me, considering I was around him for a while and realized the IQ of that boy was nothing more than that of a piece of particle board). Carlisle, although a fellow Bengal (I was served in the Brighton High school lunch program for many years), must not have gone to class too often for he apparently was not thinking and bought into Cleveland's evil plot to demise the basketball program at the U.

To top things all off, the way that Chris Hill found out about all of these things was through a spy within the BYU program. Apparently Juddy isn't all that happy in Happy Valley. He does NOT want to coach women's basketball (even if it means coaching Trenty with a sex change not unlike that of Mr. Crimson's, I mean Cake boy's). Juddy is telling Chris Hill all of these things in order to get on his good side, just in case a certain coaching position opens up at Utah within the next few years.

So there you have it. The latest information. I'll keep you posted as new information arises.

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