Tag: food

The Cookie

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The timer goes off, and I open the oven.
There’s just one cookie on the baking sheet, but it’s a big one.
It’s bigger than a dinner plate. And it has chocolate chips the size of quarters, ready to melt in my mouth.
It’s cool out, so I put the sheet on the window ledge to cool.
Milk. I’m going to need milk.
I hop on my motorcycle and head to the store, pick up a quart of milk, and rush back.
The cookie’s still there, waiting.
I can’t eat it. It’s too… perfect.
I drink the milk and sigh.

Justice Soup

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We stood around the body, wondering who had killed the man.
So, I got out a can of alphabet soup, waved it over the corpse, poured it into a mug, and microwaved it.
When it was ready, I chanted the magic spell and threw the mug at the wall.
It shattered and splashed everywhere.
“Look!” gasped the police inspector.
The name of the killer was on the wall, spelled out in noodles for all to see.
“Simple divination magic,” I said. “Nothing to it.”
The killer was found, his bloody knife retrieved, and justice was done.
So, want some soup?

Decadent

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The “Grenouille Congelée” is just an ordinary martini with an ice cube.
And inside that ice cube is a frog.
The ice cube is hollow, giving the frog a little room to move around.
It doesn’t move much. Frogs are cold-blooded and they hibernate at low temperatures, so if it moves at all, it’s going to be a groggy frog.
The cube melts easily.
Once the ice melts, the frog wakes up, and it crawls out of the glass.
An empty glass, usually, but if you’re slow to finish your drink, you may be in for a small green surprise.

One Calorie

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I started off by ordering a Jack Daniels and Coke.
I like Jack, but it’s a bit to harsh on the rocks for me. Sweeten it up with Coke, and it’s perfect.
For my twenties, that was my drink.
Until, of course, every calorie counted. The body slows down.
Since I didn’t want to slow down at the bar, I went with diet Coke.
Tasted close to the same. But let’s face it – Jack trumps the Coke flavor.
Then out came Coke Zero. That worked a lot better.
The single calorie I saved, well, that didn’t matter for squat.
Cheers.

Happy Birthday

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Happy Birthday, America. So, how old are you now?
We’ve baked you a cake. A country-sized cake.
I know, we didn’t have to, but we had all this food lying around in silos and warehouses and store shelves.
It would have just gone to waste. Or food aid to people that hate us anyway.
We’ll dig a gigantic hole and call it your mouth.
Go ahead. Make a wish. Blow out the candles.
Then, thousands of bulldozers will push the cake into your mouth.
Earthquakes will chew it up. Grind it into a sugary mush.
And swallow the cake down.

Cake Baking

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Mom was busy in the kitchen, baking a gigantic cake.
Little Susie asked why.
“It’s Baking A Cake Day,” said Mom. “And that’s why I am baking a cake.”
“Why is there a Baking A Cake Day, Mommy?” asked Little Susie.
“To celebrate Cake-Baking!”
“Why celebrate cakes? Why not pies?”
“You’re not an unpatriotic pie-lover are you?”
Little Susie asked why pie was bad, but her mother shoved her out the door.
“Go play outside!” she shouted.
Susie walked through the trees to the neighborhood creek and made mud pies with her friends.
But she came home caked with dirt.

Sloppy Fred

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Sure, you think you know all about the Sloppy Joe, but I knew Joe, and he wasn’t sloppy.
No, the real problem was the waiter Fred.
We called him Sloppy Fred.
Joe would make beef sandwiches and smack the bell. Fred grabbed the platter, and all hell would break loose.
Sauce this way. Sandwiches that way.
Sure enough, by the time he got to the table, he’d gotten them all messy.
Fred tried to blame Joe, the chef.
But he didn’t count on these things being a hit.
Joe killed Fred. Covered his tracks really good.
Not sloppy at all.

The Play

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Every Thursday, the neighborhood kids gather up at the local church and put on a puppet show for the town.
This week was different.
You see, someone burned down the shed the kids used to store their arts and crafts.
Years and years of handcrafted puppets, up in smoke.
So, the children used cheese. They put hunks of cheddar, gouda, and havarti on sticks and a bedsheet curtain rose to thunderous applause.
Hamlet had never been so… delicious.
When the curtain fell for the last time, we gave them a standing ovation.
And then, got out our wine and crackers.

Supersize

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Ever try to Supersize a Happy Meal?
I’ve tried it all around the world. Every single store they have on the face of the earth. I’ve been to every stinking one of them.
And they just won’t do it.
It doesn’t matter what language they speak there or what currency they take. They just won’t do it.
It’s impossible, they say.
Nothing is impossible, I reply.
They said that I couldn’t go around the world, asking for a Supersized Happy Meal, but I have.
I hear three new stores open every day.
Let’s hit the road and try again tomorrow.

Spiders

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Sometimes, grocery shopping with Zelda the Enchantress can be scary.
“What kind of peanut butter would you like?” she asks.
Here’s where it gets confusing.
I like creamy peanut butter.
But I also like crunchy.
Creamy! Crunchy! I can’t decide!
“Spiders!” I shout.
“Spiders?” she asks. “Spider peanut butter?”
“I dunno!” I say. “I panicked.”
She shrugs. “Spider peanut butter,” she says. “And what kind of jelly? Spider jelly?”
“No,” I say. “Um… forget the spider peanut butter. And the jelly.”
“What about the bread?” she asks.
“Forget about the bread,” I say.
Oh great. Now I’m hungry for spiders.