A few days later, I was still recovering emotionally after Michael Jackson was attacked by a swarm of angry bees.
A beekeeper came and took the bee hive away.
And before the beekeeper left, he gave us the honey that he'd put in a jar.
"This honey is sooo good"!
Michael said, as he was going to make a fresh batch of of honey-baked apples and warm biscuits.
"Yeah, it does smell good".
I said with a smile, while petting my tortoiseshell cat Cinnamon, who was comfortably lying on the floor next to my feet.
Michael turned his head and looked over at me.
"Baby, come here and help me in the kitchen, please".
Michael spoke in a gentle voice like he always did.
With that in mind, I stood up from where I was sitting and walked into the kitchen.
Cinnamon followed me there and then decided to watch us cook.
"You can help me make the biscuits".
Michael told me, and I smiled and nodded.
After taking out the biscuits from the cylinder-shaped package and putting them on a tray, I put on some oven mitts and put the biscuits into the oven.
Michael set the timer on the oven based on how long the package said that the biscuits needed to cook.
Then, we went into the living room to watch Peter Pan while we waited for the oven to beep.
I laid my head down on his chest and cuddled closer with him.
"I forgive you, Michael. You know that, right"?
I said.
"Mmhm".
Michael smiled, and then nodded his head.
"I was so scared and then when you couldn't breathe on your own, the doctors had to put you on a breathing tube".
I added.
Michael pulled me into his lap and he held me in his arms.
"I know, baby. I know".
Cinnamon walked back into the living room and meowed at us.
Michael smiled at her before reaching out to pick her up.
He carefully placed the cat in his lap.
Upon being put closer to me, Cinnamon curled up in his lap and began to purr.
She closed her eyes and started kneading her paws on Michael's lap, not realizing how close she was his lower body.
"Um...you're getting a little bit further down there, aren't you Cinnamon"?
Michael sheepishly said to the cat, who in return decided to allow her front paws to relax.
"Cinnamon, stop touching Mikezilla".
I said, while gently shaking Cinnamon.
When that didn't work, I reached out and tried to grab her, and that ended up with me touching Michael's crotch.
"Oh boy..."
The king of pop blushed shyly.
He wanted nothing more than to do me right there on the couch.
But right around then, the oven started beeping, indicating that the biscuits were ready.
Michael let out a sigh before he picked up Cinnamon again and then put her down on her paws next to me on the couch.
I could feel my mouth water at the delicious scent of biscuits.
Together, we both entered the kitchen so that Michael could take them out of the oven.
After placing them on the counter, we had to wait a little longer because the biscuits were pretty hot.
Then, we went on to make the honey-baked apples.
