I thought I’d make up for going over with last week’s flash by keeping things very short this week.

Hope you enjoy.

*     *     *     *     *

I’ve run with the bulls in Pamplona, Jenny thought to herself as she slowly swirled her spoon into the murky broth, I can surely pull this off.

Dorian fidgeted, waiting for Jenny to taste his latest attempt in the kitchen.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he repeated, straightening Jenny’s napkin on the table a third time, “I can take it.  Just tell me the truth, Sis.  Honest criticism was what we said.”

“I know, D, relax.  What is this called again?” Jenny asked as a carrot – at least, she hoped it was a carrot – floated to the top momentarily.

“Curried sweet potato and pea soup.” Dorian announced proudly as he refilled Jenny’s water glass, “It’s Ugandan.”

“Sweet!” Not a carrot. “You know I love an adventure.” I’m going to die.

Jenny took another drink of water.

“You don’t want to try it, do you?” Dorian moped, “You keep stalling, drinking water.”

“Not at all!” I wonder if I faked a stroke or a cramp. “It’s just, I had some spearmint gum earlier and I don’t want it to interfere with tasting your soup.” Not sure I can sell a stroke.  “That’s all.”  And it would have to be just a ridiculous cramp in order to knock the table over…

“Jenny, just try it.”

Jenny spooned some of the soup up and slowly lifted it to her lips.

Let it taste better than his risotto, that’s all I ask.  I still can’t look at cauliflower the same.

With the spoon three inches from her mouth, she closed her eyes.

Please, please, please, please.

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, eat it!” Dorian yelled.

Jenny held her breath and stuck the spoonful of soup in her mouth.

Is it supposed to be crunchy?  She gagged a little but hid it well.

“So?” Dorian smiled, excited.

Jenny tried to swallow it down without further having to taste it.

“Mmmmm.” She attempted to playfully smile.

“Are you okay?” Dorian asked, concerned, “You look like you’re in pain.”

You can’t cook. “No, no.  Just shocked at how this tastes.”  I don’t know what you do at cooking school while the class is going on.  “I’d say Mom has invested well, paying for your cooking classes!” I’d like to take the money she’s spent, roll it up and smoke it, just to get this taste out of my mouth.

“Phew, what a relief!” Dorian said, going back into the kitchen, “I didn’t really stick to the recipe.”

“You don’t say.” I need to move away completely, a different country.  “You’ve got a gift.”  I want to burn your kitchen to the ground.

“Ya know, I think I really might have.” Dorian poked his head back in from the kitchen.  “Go ahead and eat up, there’s plenty more!”

Jenny looked around for a suitable place to dispose of the soup.

“Hey, where’s Rodger?” That dog will eat anything.

“Oh, he’s with Joanne ‘til next Tuesday. She says I’m making him fat with all the people food I’m giving him, so she’s taking charge of his meals.  Strictly dog food for the poor guy this week.”

“The lucky bastard.”

Dorian peeked his head back in.


Did I say that out loud?

“Oh, uh, nothing.  Hey, I’ve got a bowl that needs topping off here!”  Jenny said, regretfully.

“You got it, Sis!” Dorian headed back, smiling.

Jenny quietly put her head down on the table and pounded it repeatedly.