Something in Your Food - 7/21

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lianabanana5
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RE: Something in Your Food - 7/21

Postby lianabanana5 » Sat May 14, 2011 5:48 am

You wouldn't suspect me of being an Italian until you saw the way I eat.
I am 13 years of age, approximately 100 lb.s, with skin whiter than sour cream and hair redder than a chili pepper. That's my grandma's fraction of Irish in me; the rest is made up of pure Italian heritage. But tonight I was going all out. Birthdays are my chance to buy the most expensive things on the menu and not get a dramatic moral lesson from Mom. Thanks for being born, grandma.
I ordered the $26 Lobster along with the Chef's Special Mashed Potatoes. Holy guacamole. Grandpa stood up to make a speech for the whole family while the food was served in front of us, but I dug in right away. I guess I forgot my manners at the moment, but who cares; I hit the jackpot. Eventually everyone sat down, but I was already half-way through the meal.
My favorite part of lobster is the tail, and the best is always saved for last. I cracked the shell open and took a bite of the tender... no, not tender. A bit crunchy. I decided to ignore it until the taste changed. I looked down in my food to find --
Paper? No way.
I checked to see if anyone was looking, and an excited feeling stirred in my stomach and in my throat. Pulling the paper out with my fingers was the tricky part, because it was moist from the lobster and kept tearing. I slipped it out finally, with some friction in the way.
There was barely any light under the table, so it was difficult to read. Part of the top of the text was travelling through my digestive track, which didn't help.

My de t has come t can no
longer l the task of li . I have
a qu st th that, du my illn s,
cannot be fi e. I am put ng my tru
in yo hat you c mplete . Find t
structi n wastebask n y office.
The ests in hands. Mee
on the side. ~A. P.

Just then, a stout man with a flopping toupe came bursting out from behind the swivelling doors. His spectacles were clouded with dust and his nose was red. Obviously, this man was in a hurry. He scanned the room until he rested his eyes on my lobster.
Because I am a skilled professional liar, I knew that the best thing to do was to act like nothing happened. I smiled when he walked -- stumbled -- over.
"I need that lobster." He was breathing heavy and he spit on me.
"I'm sorry? It was absolutely delicious."
But something about the way that he looked at me made me shiver. His eyes seemed almost, like, creamy-golden yellow. I kept telling myself that it was just the lighting, but something didn't quite sit right.
Again, but more sincere: "I need that lobster."
Still curious: "Sure, you can take it." My eyebrows furrowed as he snatched the plate... and the scraps of lobster from the table that missed my mouth.
He disappeared behind the double doors within seconds.
Then Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Johnny, Kate, Uncle Mark, Aunt Susan, and even the baby, were looking at me.
"May I go to the bathroom?" There was no need to wait for an answer. Find t structi n wastebask n y office: That was my mission.


P.S. I forgot the whole "I can explain!" part. Sorry :).

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jinhessel
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RE: Something in Your Food - 7/21

Postby jinhessel » Sat May 14, 2011 1:14 pm

At The Golden Butterfly
It was lovely – a personal-sized cake all my own with butter cream frosting and one fat red candle, lit. Auntie and I had finished dinner at The Golden Butterfly; it was their custom to treat you to free cake on your birthday, and this was mine. A few tables away I could see that another young lady was enjoying the same birthday with the same treat. It seemed that the cute young waiter must have known her, as he kept swinging by and chatting her up with a great crescent moon of a smile, his face crinkling near the corners of his eyes. He hung there like a fluttery insect near the nectar, it seemed to me – hovering.

I cut the tiny cake in two and slid the half portion onto my aunt’s spare plate. Mmmm! So moist it looked, so spongy it felt and pungent with a citrus-y tang. In my mouth the morsel was lemon-zesty, topped by a kiss of frosting just barely sweet with a hint of walnut. I could be a food writer if I had material like this, I was sure of it. I closed my eyes and sighed.

My third bite had a surprise inside. I bit down on something metal with a hunk of stone on it. My tongue traced a round shape and my fingers removed it to see. It was a crumb-covered diamond ring, of all things!

“My word!” said my aunt. “Someone lost their ring in the batter.”

“Do they realize they lost it?”I could see it was a modest but graceful ring, the sparkly round stone pushed high with the prongs. The band was a mellow gold.

“You could have choked. We should complain.” She looked around and cleared her throat.

And now the grinning waiter, who had been watching the young lady eat her cake, stared at us in horror. I was holding the cleaned-off ring to the light.

“Young man,” said my aunt. “There was a foreign object in our food.”

“I can explain,” he said. He turned and bowed and downed his mouth and raised his palms to the lady, who was all knitted eyebrows.

“You see, that’s the ring I meant to surprise Brooke with. That’s Brooke,” he said. “My soon-to-be fiancée, I hope. I put the ring in the batter in the cake pan, and, uh, I guess the cakes got mixed up.” By now his face was a rash of blushes. He was glowing pink. Brooke had slapped her hands over her mouth.

I don’t know why I did this next thing. It was mean, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Really?” I said. “You claim the ring is yours, when I found it fair and square. The ring is mine.”

His face fell and lost its color.

“Just kidding,” I said.

Sometimes, I’m so bad.

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