BACKSTREET YUK, MR LECTURER!
Chapter 23 - The Bloody Father

"Ciee, who had been staying at the hotel all night," greeted Ratna when she saw her son and daughter-in-law coming to her.

Khadijah had an idea to stay at his parents' house. Khoirul has not fully recognized his son-in-law if he has not occasionally lived in the house of in-laws, and vice versa.

The long night they spent at the hotel brought the two closer together. Moreover, Khoirul who openly admitted that he began to like Khadijah.

Khoirul smiled shyly, "Try, Ma."

"What?" sela Khadija's.

"Yes, who knows, right?"

"Pregnant means? No, sir. I still want to find work" Khadijah said.

Ratna pinched her son's waist in annoyance at his unreasonable remark, "If the talking is filtered first in the head, Sejah. Speech is prayer. Later if you're having trouble getting pregnant, you're having a hard time."

"But the reality is that I am still nothing" replied Khadijah.

"So a good wife, understanding and love the same husband is the best. Work business let husband business. You sometimes make mama dizzy," said Ratna. He apologized to Khoirul for his ranting, "son Khoirul just rest first. Mama prepare food."

"No need, Ma. I went straight to the campus because" Khoirul refused. He has been out for two days so must complete the pending task immediately.

"Wedded too?"

Khadijah shook his head, "No. Today is free. I want to play with Raisa."

"Main? I've got a house to stop playing. What you need to think about your husband. If allowed to go, then" said Ratna.

Khadijah scowled, "This mama ngomel only. His son came instead of being well. Then I didn't ask Mr. Khoirul to stay the night. Mr. Khoirul must also be dizzy do you hear mama nagging?" Khadijah's eyes beckoned Khoirul to defend him.

Wrong address. Khoirul just shook his head, "I can understand that behind a mother's nagging there must be good in it. Isn't that right, Ma?"

Ratna nodded quickly, "That's right. It's just your daughter-in-law who can understand you."

"Yes, just talk alone. I'm going to go to the room!" sudang Khadija's.

Two people who have no humanity. That's again what kind of husband can not defend his wife, inner Khadijah growled.

Despite the nagging, he still unpacked the contents of his bag and arranged it in the closet. The sound of the heels of the shoes with the floor was heard from the front. Khadijah doesn't want to care who it is. He only cares about his frustration.

The door of the room opened slowly, Khoirul appeared with a smile on his dikulum.

Not yet fully Khadijah focused, two arms were coiled around his waist. The woman was shrieking loudly. Feeling that someone was hanging his head on his shoulder, Khadijah glanced, "What's the matter? Want to upset me for not being able to be polite to parents? Or do you want to blame me again?"

"You just hug you to go to campus. I will miss you later" whispered Khoirul.

Slowly the anger disappeared. Khadijah's lips pulled to the side, only fleeting for fear of being caught by her husband.

"Jawab dong" pinta Khoirul.

"What's the answer, sir?"

"Yes answer. Do you miss me, too, or not?"

Khadijah shook his head, "No."

"It's okay. I guess I miss you. I go first huh? But I want to request the cuisine you have to make" said Khoirul while taking off his embrace.

"Taste what, sir?"

"That's not hard. Whatever matters you cook."

"Sambal with crackers doang want?" kanda Khadijah's.

"Now. Just you made it."

"Where can I make crackers, sir? Buy it."

"I mean sambalnya. You are," said Khoirul. Pinched Khadijah cheek, "I go first yes. Don't miss me."

Khoirul just chuckled amusedly at his wife's answer. Only Khadijah who is confused must make what. He finished his job and searched the internet for information. The easiest cuisine is of course fried cuisine. Butwhat?

"Chicken fried?" gumam Khadija's. He flicked his finger, "good idea."

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"Please, Mama! Why did the chicken explode? Duh, can you just shut up?" peekik Khadija while covering her face.

The woman retreated more than five steps after previously putting the long object she used to fry earlier into any place. His mouth was muttering, hoping that the frying pan would immediately stop exploding.

Ratna approached Khadijah with her sour face. The middle-aged woman shook her head to see the state of the kitchen that resembled a ship breaking. "What the hell is it, Colored?"

"That's a shit, Ma, exploding. He raged the same time as me" said Khadijah.

"The water came in earlier, Colored. Don't you drain it first?"

Khadijah shook his head, how does he understand that? He thought the camphor chicken could go straight into cooking oil.

"It just exploded. Just wait. It will also stop on its own. Watch out, don't stay long. If the skunk can't be eaten."

"When the color changes?"

"Browniness."

"Okay, I get it."

Khadija mangut-mangut get along. He waited patiently for his voice to disappear. But his patience bore bitter fruit. When viewed in the frying pan, the chicken should be golden brown to blackish brown.

"Oh, God," cried Khadijah. He tried to lift his cooking faster by a few seconds but it was useless. Unsaved. "Can't eat any more?"

Khadijah scratched his head which was not itchy at all. What did Khoirul say when he saw the appearance of his bonfire bathed in oil?

"But did Mr Khoirul ask for my cooking? It's nothing that matters to my cooking. If you don't want to, throw it away" Khadijah murmured to himself.

°°°

"Please, Mr. Khoirul. This is my cooking" Khadijah told Khoirul. He serves food that he buys from restaurants but carries the theme of home cooking on the dining table. Although he argued that Khoirul should swallow his homemade cooking, he was not feeling well. His stomach can go hay.

Ratna and Burhan step aside as soon as they find out the couple is enjoying dinner.

Khoirul gave a faint smile. Somehow he suspected Khadijah's attitude was too sweet to see. "You're being so nice."

"Yes I'm good. If it's not good, how can I make you?" gumam Khadija's. He also sat down and enjoyed the meal. But unfortunately Khoirul is clearer in his thinking than Khadija. The man tasted this familiar taste.

"Why do you feel similar to the cuisine of Mbok Endut restaurant huh, Sejah?" muttered Khoirul while glancing at Khadijah.

Khadijah chokes, "Yes, sir?"

How does Mr Khoirul know? Batin Khadijah's.

"Yes. I've eaten there."

"Em, similar doang, sir," elak Khadijah.

"It seems too obvious that this. Honestly, you bought it, right?"

"No, sir," elak Khadijah. In his heart he wished himself to be swallowed to the face of the earth.

Khoirul put down his spoon and walked towards the kitchen. He researched every feeding container that might be the hiding place of Khadija. There is a suspicious place. Inside the top kitchen set drawer.

Khadijah sizzled slowly to see that Khoirul had found him. He ran, intending to pull the plate containing the charred chicken but instead he hit Khoirul's body. Khadija almost toppled but Khoirul held his wife's body.

Unexpected events happen as fast as lightning. The knife on the right side of the stove, right next to Khoirul, accidentally moved because of Khoirul's shock. The object was almost exposed to Khadijah if only Khoirul did not twist his wife's body.

"Father is bleeding" she cried, seeing fresh blood coming out of a thin incision in her husband's arm.

°°°