FC-Punk

“What do you think of this one, Mom?” Delaney had always wanted to be a chef. Ever since she was a little girl, begging for Easy Bake Ovens and peeking her head curiously around the corner around dinnertime. Like plenty of Bailey women before her, she had a natural affinity for the kitchen. It wasn’t until she’d gotten older that she’d been able to truly apply this talent, and even then she’d been forced to start small. Enrolling in elective courses at the Community College was the best way to get her foot in the door, but she had taken to it like a fish does to water. “I-I don’t know, honey, I think it still needs a little work.” “But you didn’t even taste it!” The rule had been, once Delaney was old enough and enrolled in college, her mother couldn’t tell her what courses she could and couldn’t take. Even if she’d strongly suggested something practical like a Bachelor’s in Business or Communications, Donna had no right to tell her mostly-grown daughter what she could do for the