Hey, you laugh, but a friend of our family named Henrietta (one very large woman) would only cook with cast iron. When her son was three, her husband came home at 10 a.m. to announce to her she was fat and ugly, he’d been out drinking and fooling around, he’d spent that week’s paycheck, and she just better make his breakfast and shut up about it.
She made his breakfast and shut up about it.
The moron should have recognized the danger and headed for the hills. Instead, he went to sleep. And woke up being beat with a cast iron frying pan. She dragged his butt out of their apartment, down 2 flights of stairs and into the street and continued to beat him. Neighbors called an ambulance, he went to the hospital, and never came back to the neighborhood, nobody knew where he went (we were told this by the neighbors, Henrietta never talked about it), and they never heard from him again.
Of course wrong, but I understand it. And nobody ever, ever messed with Henrietta. Of course, that would have been in the ‘50s. Today, she probably would have been arrested.