Tag: food

Hawaii

639156

I saved up for a year to go to Hawaii.
I kept a calendar, marked every day off until it was time.
First class ticket, champagne and leg room.
They put one of those flower necklaces on me.
Checked into the hotel, and then took a taxi to a party.
First time I ever had poi.
That’s when my throat locked up.
I’m allergic, it turns out.
Spent the whole week in the hospital.
I don’t remember the flight back.
Yeah, being allergic to bees or gluten would suck.
But I can’t help but think this was far, far worse.

Shadows and Snacks

639168

Before I go out into the streets of Old Rustville, I fill the pocket of my robe with shadow, gathered from an alley.
Shadow is a most powerful reagent, useful for spells of concealment and death.
Another pocket, filled with pistachios. It is always good to have a snack handy.
Always the right hand with the pistachios and the left with the shadows.
One does not want to bite into raw shadow, nor does one want to cast the forbidden spells using nuts within the city limits.
Yes, this was once called Silver City. Before my careless, snack-powered Armageddon Spell.

Shampoo

639157

These days, people will put just about anything in shampoo.
They shove all kinda of flowers and stuff in there and call it “herbal.”
Once, I was given a sample to try.
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” said the marketer. “Go ahead and try it.”
So, I took it home, got in the shower, soaked my hair, and poured it on.
It started to tingle the moment the water hit it.
Then it heated up. Exciting.
Oops! I’ve gotten some in my eyes.
As I washed it out, that’s when I felt it burn.
HOLY SHIT! JALAPENOS!

The Pie

639157

She asks me what my favorite scent is.
Pie. Pumpkin pie.
The best pumpkin pie I have ever smelled was a gift.
A woman who had scorned me had left it on her windowsill to cool in the gentle evening breeze as she slept with her new lover.
I took the pie and tossed in a Molotov cocktail.
The fire caught quickly, too fast for them to escape.
They burned to death while I watched, finishing every last bit of the pie.
Here I am, hiding in Mexico, waiting for the heat to die down.
Got any pie? Or matches?

Alphabet Soup

639163

My daughter loves it when I make her alphabet soup.
But every now and then, she complains that a letter is backwards or upside-down.
“Just turn the damn bowl,” I say. “It all tastes the same.”
No, she won’t. She will stare at it and whine loudly.
“There is nothing wrong with this soup,” I say, and I eat a spoon of it. “See?”
She still won’t eat it.
I offer to make her a different soup, but she wants alphabet soup.
I blindfold her and slide the bowl in front of her.
Shut up and eat it, or starve!

Foil

639154

Happy birthday, Oliver. Here’s your present.
What?
Oh, I never buy gift wrapping paper.
Instead, I use tinfoil.
It’s bright and shiny. And it’s actually cheaper than wrapping paper when you think about it.
Especially if you give out small presents and not all that often.
Instead of having wrapping paper for every occasional and holiday, the tinfoil serves all purposes.
Plus, when they unwrap their presents, they can wrap food in it and put it in the freezer.
Let’s see you try to do that with wrapping paper.
What? You did?
No wonder why these steaks are badly freezer-burned.

Frozen Barbie

639163

My little sister was so weird.
One day, she stripped all of her Barbie dolls naked and wrapped them in aluminum foil.
“What are you doing that for?” our mom asked.
“Cryogenics,” she said, sticking the dolls in the freezer. “We’ll wake them up in the year 3000.”
Late that night, I took out the Barbie dolls and wrapped up some corn cobs in the foil.
The next day, she checked up on her time capsules and screamed.
That night for dinner, we had roasted chicken and steamed corn on the cob.
Sis put hers in a dress and cried.

Peanuts

639157

If there’s anything I do that has me pegged as a Southerner, it’s the fact that I put peanuts in my cokes.
You’re supposed to put them in the bottle, but nobody drinks out of bottles anymore.
People drink out of cans, or they use a glass.
Either way, I still put peanuts in my coke.
The peanuts soak up the coke, and when you’re done drinking the coke, you rattle them around and chew them up.
My grampa taught me to do this, but he told me to do it with the shells still on.
Grampa was an asshole.

Poison Banquet

639171

The guards aren’t allowed to beat us anymore, but they still torture us.
They have a chef cook feasts for them. The air ducts are arranged to blanket the jail with the kitchen smells:
Fresh baked bread.
Deep, rich gumbo.
Buttery, roasted corn.
So good!
Then they slide trays with the usual, horrible slop under the bars.
The chef is one of us. Did twenty years for putting a knife in a man trying to rob his restaurant.
They beat him bad too many times, so he’s adding his extra special ingredient tonight.
“Poison never tasted so good,” he chuckles.

Perfect Potatoes

639166

The potatoes are perfect?
Good. I’m glad you like them.
You know, I always kept things in the oven just a little too long.
So, I had the temperature turned down just little on the oven.
Things turn out just right now.
I could have just set the timer a little quicker, but I’m such a stickler for time.
Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes. You can measure it with a clock or by counting.
But temperature? Can you really tell the difference between three hundred and fifty degrees and three hundred and forty degrees?
Thought so.
So, want more potatoes?