chrimbo spaghetti

I cross my heart and hope to die,
Baby, you’ve just got a pie in the sky


As I stepped inside, it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room as the sun was quietly going down. My eyes fell upon the dim figure sitting on the floor with a notebook in her hand. She bore resemblance to an odalisque holding an incandescent earthen lamp aflame in the sanctum. Or this hallucination could be a case in point for some serious mental disorder.  But I was slightly discomfited by Foe’s woebegone look.

“You okay?” I asked urgently.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she hurled her notebook away. My pied dog Poe was wagging its tail and licking her toes. Apparently, we both were on equal footing.

In a short while, I began to get her drift. A nod is as good as a wink! A penny dropped. I couldn’t leave her on her own devices. Hence, I picked up the notebook and looked around for mosquitos. As soon as I raised my hand to swat all those invisible mosquitos, Foe seized the notebook from my hands with a hostile look.

” I thought, it will gladden you!” I squeaked. Suffice it to say, I utterly failed at plumbing the depth of her displeasure or what incurred it this time.

The truth of the matter is I hardly ever knew why I did what I did. (I imagined swatting mosquitos that could have settled on her face). Then I thought better of it and dissembled.


I felt something enormous and smouldering on my head. The way she was hostile to me often piqued my curiosity. Long-faced I wore sackcloth and ashes. Tears nearly sprung into my eyes. To be a bona-fide mate is no mean feat.

” You’re pretty far gone. A bit of gumption wouldn’t do any harm to you.” Foe snapped sardonically.

The door creaked at once.

“Wassup?” Joe stuck out her head from behind the door out of thin air.

Her arrival assuaged my dismay. I tried to give her a glad look.

“Anyone for spaghetti?”

I quietly bobbed my head.

“Whoopeeee!” Foe let out a yelp of joy.

We betook ourselves to the dining room where fate awaited me.

The bubble burst soon. After the spaghetti was served I kept my eyes skinned for something more. Time hung heavy on my hand as I pivoted on Joe’s noddle.

“Are we missing anything?” I scratched my grizzly beard and asked restively as my patience had gone astray by then.

Joe raised her eyebrows then passed me Maggi Tomato Ketchup.

For a while, I stared at her blankly.

“It’s different!” she winked at me as an expert.

It was truly a stroke of genius. I couldn’t but simper and gladly splashed MTC over my spaghetti then squinted and gulped it down. The spaghetti was done to turn and the piquant flavour of Chrimbo filled the house.

Foe looked at me beseechingly as she had never ever seen such a fan of spaghetti. It might smother you and you’d be left gulping for air but all you have to do is just gotta duck the issue.

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Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern town Gorakhpur, U.P, India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids or crafts.

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