27 January 2017
848
R. Linda:
I took your advice knowing perfectly well I shouldn't have, but I did anyway and the cost was a nightmare of a dream, thank you very much! Glad to say you were included in that nightmarish mess, oh yes you were, and the usual suspects who follow this blog were in the muck too.
It all started off with me knowing damn well I shouldn't load up on the spicy Mexican food, and every shovelful that went into me gob was done consciously knowing it was a big mistake. But I did it anyway. I asked me Mam to make that hotter-than-hell chilli I made when I lived in Boston, the same chilli recipe that nearly felled an entire apartment complex. You remember THAT I be sure. So under orders she did, but forgetting who was doing the cooking (yes, the little woman who covertly adds her own spices in ADDITION to what be called for in the recipe), I was not expecting the intense heat that oozed down the back of me throat, burning hot into me cast iron stomach which turns out isn't as cast iron as I thought. I took one spoonful of that Mexican lava and good thing I was standing because I ended up doing a dance all around the kitchen island! And that was a sample taste. But more important to yours truly was -- what did I just swallow? It had the consistency of potatoes? Potatoes, R. Linda, I swear I had a chunk of potato in the chilli.
"WHAT did you put in this?" I asked me Mam once I was done doing the fire dance.
"Wot ye said ta." She said smugly.
I knew full well that was an Irish white lie and called her on it. I even stirred up the mixture and saw what looked like chicken and OMG POTATOES!
"Ok, sos I put in a lil' Irish spice bag."
"Irish spice bag? There be no such ting," I ranted.
"Oh yes dere be." She said holding her ground, waving a wooden spoon at me.
"How can you make up a spicy spice out of rosemary, thyme, caraway seeds, parsley and sage? Those be the only spices I know of used in Irish cooking!"
"I used a spice bag." She said emphatically like I should know what that was.
"What be a spice bag? Never heard of it." I countered.
"Dats becauz you left Ireland when dey became popular in Dooblin," she paused looking for that to sink in, then she continued, "it be sum tatties wit chicken mixed wit peppers, garlic powder, chilli powder, salt, cumin, coconut oil, rosemary, thyme, da usual. I mixed da spice bag in wit da chilli recipe sos dats dat. Oh, an I added a drop of Jameson just fer good measure."
I was dumbfounded. A thing that be happening more and more to me of late. Well, no need to tell you the only person in the house that ate THAT gooey mess was me! I be a glutton for punishment and I be not the one to shy away from tasting strange foods (though this was ridiculous).
Tonya had taken one whiff and her face compressed into a pickled person's face and a long "woo wee!" came out of her mouth. She waved her hands and shook her head as she went to the freezer for frozen White Castle Hamburgers and frozen french fries which she microwaved for her and the kiddos. Yes, I ate that Irish spice bag chilli and no, me Mam didn't touch the stuff instead she joined the wife and kiddos for the frozen food. And why did I eat that concoction knowing full well what was in it? Because of this:
"Dat be da last tyme I cook anyting fer yer arse Gabriel. Ya wanted chilli ya got chilli dat I been slaven' over, breaking me back, all day long. Sos say goodbye ta Irish whiskey cake, no more shepherd's pie, no more bangers an' mash, no more Baileys creme brûlée, no more Irish anyting."
Yup that was the threat and you know I can't have THAT happen. So I forced that stuff down and I have to tell you I thought I'd die. I put on a good show of not letting any of them see me suffer through my meal. No, I ate one whole bowl and not only was my throat on fire, me stomach destroyed, but me entrails were aflame. I killed every taste bud in me mouth I did for being spiteful. That will learn me as the Weasil says.
After being up most of the night drinking vast quantities of any liquid I could get me hands on to quench not only me thirst, but the everlasting fire that was consuming me insides. From sheer exhaustion I ended up on the couch in a frenzied sleep.
I dreamt that Weasil was sitting in a chair next to me pouring me a Jameson straight up telling me something about the hair of the pepper that bit me, and I took a healthy down the hatch swig and the fire that was roiling in me stomach lit up like the fires of hell as soon as the alcohol hit.
Next I remember there was YOU with the wooden spoon, standing in me kitchen saying, "Eat that or I swear I will make it snow in New Hampshire like it does in Denver."
"You . . . you . . . you put a spice bag in this!" I accused.
"Do you even know what that is?" You asked.
Well, no not in me dream I didn't, but I got help on that score. Next, I heard the person sitting next to me (who was playing with her spoon and NOT eating the spice bag chilli by the bye), say to me, "Dublin Spice Bag, look it up."
I jumped nearly out of me skin for there was Dewdropper, hair growing a mile a minute. I swiped my chilli bowl away from the blond tendrils creeping around it. If I hadn't been dreaming I'd have let the hair have the bowl just to see what would happen. But no in my dream I did no such thing because I didn't want to insult YOU over that concoction. Oi!
I looked over at Dew she was disappearing in the hair, I shouted at her, "Why are you doing that?"
"I am building a wall Gabe, a big golden wall and Mexico will pay for it when I'm done. It will be splendidly gargantuan and tremendous. Giant size, truly marvellous, even 100% absolutely terrific."
"WHAT?" I shouted, but too late she was completely gone behind the wall of hair.
I went to sit out of hair range when I jumped again because there was Fiona her head a massive cabbage eating a salad. She patted the bench she was sitting on across from where Dew used to be, signalling me to have a seat. "Come sit here loser," she said. That wasn't happening, I was totally distracted between her cabbage head and her salad and the hair tendrils that were encompassing the other side of the room which was scaring me. Those two events right there should have awoken me, but no I dreamt on stupid me.
I stepped on someones booted foot and realised it was Capt. Jaack. He was watching the wall of hair get bigger and bigger and he said, "If I pour this fabulous bottle of rum, and Gabe it is a fabulous bottle of rum, on that wall over there and Wolfie lights it with his light sabre, well, absolutely 100% it will catch on fire and I guarantee it. It will be adventurous, staggering, behemoth, vast, HUGE."
"Huh?" I said looking around for the Wolf who was standing shock still watching the hair wall mesmerised by it. He had in his hand a light sabre and he gulped as he watched the growing hair wall.
"Why is everyone talking like Donald Trump?" I asked them.
Captain Jaack came swinging on a rope pouring a huge bottle of rum on the hair wall. He swung back and forth three times and on the second I heard the hum of the light sabre and I looked to see Wolf had switched it on and was getting ready to move toward the hair wall.
"No, don't do it," I yelled and as I did I started off in his direction as if to stop him when I tripped over YOU, R. Linda, I hadn't seen your diminutive self standing there watching it all with glee. And when I tripped, the bowl of fire flew into the wall and with a giant WHOOSH the hair wall lit up. Wolfie didn't have to do a thing but he stepped back from the flames looking at his light sabre not knowing how he lit the wall up, which he hadn't. Talk about dazed and confused, he was both those things.
"Wowwee woo woo -- a maz ing," Weasil said suddenly appearing beside me. "Makes ya wanna be a pyromaniac, heh heh."
Before I could react to that pearl, Wolfie was shouting to Jaack to get water, there was a person in the wall. Well, that person was the Dewdropper. I could just make her out choking on the smoke as the fire roared and moved towards her.
"No water, you'll make it worse I guarantee it, fetch salt it is fabulous, you stupid lightweight," Fiona shouted still shoving greens in her cabbage hole.
"No, let it burn that's not Dewdropper in there, look at that hair, moron." You said pointing the spoon and simultaneously getting Jaack in a headlock so his pail of water splashed to the floor.
Wolfie made to walk by you to the fire, only you tripped him and once he was to his knees you threw Jaack from you with the spoon and grabbed Wolfie running your fingers through his "good hair." I was aghast.
"Unhand his hair," I said but you were totally enjoying the experience and no longer conscious of anything but his professionally coiffed hair. "Stop I say!"
"I can't it is so elegant, done in a classy style, absolutely 100% fabulous and above all stylish." You said as I tried to wrestle you off him.
"Stop! Both of you this is detrimental to my fabulous good looks," Wolfie stammered, trying to catch a hold of your roving hands. "You are a nasty woman! My hair!"
"Look how fetching you look now," you said to him, "you are fabulously engaging."
I stood up, I didn't know what to say. There he was sitting on the floor, and there you were standing next to him smoothing down his tresses and I realised standing you were as tall as he was sitting. I had to shake meself from that reverie.
"Oh my god, DEW we forgot about DEW," I shouted as everyone came running from wherever they had disappeared and well, the fire was out. And sitting there completely bald was Donald Trump. He looked a little disoriented.
"Are you ok?" I called him.
"Not bad, not bad. Feeling a bit obtuse, but other than that, not bad."
"Fabulous," I said.
I woke up then, not sure what the hell that was all about, still not sure. But one thing I am sure of is no more of your spicy food suggestions. Uh-huh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
848
R. Linda:
I took your advice knowing perfectly well I shouldn't have, but I did anyway and the cost was a nightmare of a dream, thank you very much! Glad to say you were included in that nightmarish mess, oh yes you were, and the usual suspects who follow this blog were in the muck too.
It all started off with me knowing damn well I shouldn't load up on the spicy Mexican food, and every shovelful that went into me gob was done consciously knowing it was a big mistake. But I did it anyway. I asked me Mam to make that hotter-than-hell chilli I made when I lived in Boston, the same chilli recipe that nearly felled an entire apartment complex. You remember THAT I be sure. So under orders she did, but forgetting who was doing the cooking (yes, the little woman who covertly adds her own spices in ADDITION to what be called for in the recipe), I was not expecting the intense heat that oozed down the back of me throat, burning hot into me cast iron stomach which turns out isn't as cast iron as I thought. I took one spoonful of that Mexican lava and good thing I was standing because I ended up doing a dance all around the kitchen island! And that was a sample taste. But more important to yours truly was -- what did I just swallow? It had the consistency of potatoes? Potatoes, R. Linda, I swear I had a chunk of potato in the chilli.
"WHAT did you put in this?" I asked me Mam once I was done doing the fire dance.
"Wot ye said ta." She said smugly.
I knew full well that was an Irish white lie and called her on it. I even stirred up the mixture and saw what looked like chicken and OMG POTATOES!
"Ok, sos I put in a lil' Irish spice bag."
"Irish spice bag? There be no such ting," I ranted.
"Oh yes dere be." She said holding her ground, waving a wooden spoon at me.
"How can you make up a spicy spice out of rosemary, thyme, caraway seeds, parsley and sage? Those be the only spices I know of used in Irish cooking!"
"I used a spice bag." She said emphatically like I should know what that was.
"What be a spice bag? Never heard of it." I countered.
"Dats becauz you left Ireland when dey became popular in Dooblin," she paused looking for that to sink in, then she continued, "it be sum tatties wit chicken mixed wit peppers, garlic powder, chilli powder, salt, cumin, coconut oil, rosemary, thyme, da usual. I mixed da spice bag in wit da chilli recipe sos dats dat. Oh, an I added a drop of Jameson just fer good measure."
I was dumbfounded. A thing that be happening more and more to me of late. Well, no need to tell you the only person in the house that ate THAT gooey mess was me! I be a glutton for punishment and I be not the one to shy away from tasting strange foods (though this was ridiculous).
Tonya had taken one whiff and her face compressed into a pickled person's face and a long "woo wee!" came out of her mouth. She waved her hands and shook her head as she went to the freezer for frozen White Castle Hamburgers and frozen french fries which she microwaved for her and the kiddos. Yes, I ate that Irish spice bag chilli and no, me Mam didn't touch the stuff instead she joined the wife and kiddos for the frozen food. And why did I eat that concoction knowing full well what was in it? Because of this:
"Dat be da last tyme I cook anyting fer yer arse Gabriel. Ya wanted chilli ya got chilli dat I been slaven' over, breaking me back, all day long. Sos say goodbye ta Irish whiskey cake, no more shepherd's pie, no more bangers an' mash, no more Baileys creme brûlée, no more Irish anyting."
Yup that was the threat and you know I can't have THAT happen. So I forced that stuff down and I have to tell you I thought I'd die. I put on a good show of not letting any of them see me suffer through my meal. No, I ate one whole bowl and not only was my throat on fire, me stomach destroyed, but me entrails were aflame. I killed every taste bud in me mouth I did for being spiteful. That will learn me as the Weasil says.
After being up most of the night drinking vast quantities of any liquid I could get me hands on to quench not only me thirst, but the everlasting fire that was consuming me insides. From sheer exhaustion I ended up on the couch in a frenzied sleep.
I dreamt that Weasil was sitting in a chair next to me pouring me a Jameson straight up telling me something about the hair of the pepper that bit me, and I took a healthy down the hatch swig and the fire that was roiling in me stomach lit up like the fires of hell as soon as the alcohol hit.
Next I remember there was YOU with the wooden spoon, standing in me kitchen saying, "Eat that or I swear I will make it snow in New Hampshire like it does in Denver."
"You . . . you . . . you put a spice bag in this!" I accused.
"Do you even know what that is?" You asked.
Well, no not in me dream I didn't, but I got help on that score. Next, I heard the person sitting next to me (who was playing with her spoon and NOT eating the spice bag chilli by the bye), say to me, "Dublin Spice Bag, look it up."
I jumped nearly out of me skin for there was Dewdropper, hair growing a mile a minute. I swiped my chilli bowl away from the blond tendrils creeping around it. If I hadn't been dreaming I'd have let the hair have the bowl just to see what would happen. But no in my dream I did no such thing because I didn't want to insult YOU over that concoction. Oi!
I looked over at Dew she was disappearing in the hair, I shouted at her, "Why are you doing that?"
"I am building a wall Gabe, a big golden wall and Mexico will pay for it when I'm done. It will be splendidly gargantuan and tremendous. Giant size, truly marvellous, even 100% absolutely terrific."
"WHAT?" I shouted, but too late she was completely gone behind the wall of hair.
I went to sit out of hair range when I jumped again because there was Fiona her head a massive cabbage eating a salad. She patted the bench she was sitting on across from where Dew used to be, signalling me to have a seat. "Come sit here loser," she said. That wasn't happening, I was totally distracted between her cabbage head and her salad and the hair tendrils that were encompassing the other side of the room which was scaring me. Those two events right there should have awoken me, but no I dreamt on stupid me.
I stepped on someones booted foot and realised it was Capt. Jaack. He was watching the wall of hair get bigger and bigger and he said, "If I pour this fabulous bottle of rum, and Gabe it is a fabulous bottle of rum, on that wall over there and Wolfie lights it with his light sabre, well, absolutely 100% it will catch on fire and I guarantee it. It will be adventurous, staggering, behemoth, vast, HUGE."
"Huh?" I said looking around for the Wolf who was standing shock still watching the hair wall mesmerised by it. He had in his hand a light sabre and he gulped as he watched the growing hair wall.
"Why is everyone talking like Donald Trump?" I asked them.
Captain Jaack came swinging on a rope pouring a huge bottle of rum on the hair wall. He swung back and forth three times and on the second I heard the hum of the light sabre and I looked to see Wolf had switched it on and was getting ready to move toward the hair wall.
"No, don't do it," I yelled and as I did I started off in his direction as if to stop him when I tripped over YOU, R. Linda, I hadn't seen your diminutive self standing there watching it all with glee. And when I tripped, the bowl of fire flew into the wall and with a giant WHOOSH the hair wall lit up. Wolfie didn't have to do a thing but he stepped back from the flames looking at his light sabre not knowing how he lit the wall up, which he hadn't. Talk about dazed and confused, he was both those things.
"Wowwee woo woo -- a maz ing," Weasil said suddenly appearing beside me. "Makes ya wanna be a pyromaniac, heh heh."
Before I could react to that pearl, Wolfie was shouting to Jaack to get water, there was a person in the wall. Well, that person was the Dewdropper. I could just make her out choking on the smoke as the fire roared and moved towards her.
"No water, you'll make it worse I guarantee it, fetch salt it is fabulous, you stupid lightweight," Fiona shouted still shoving greens in her cabbage hole.
"No, let it burn that's not Dewdropper in there, look at that hair, moron." You said pointing the spoon and simultaneously getting Jaack in a headlock so his pail of water splashed to the floor.
Wolfie made to walk by you to the fire, only you tripped him and once he was to his knees you threw Jaack from you with the spoon and grabbed Wolfie running your fingers through his "good hair." I was aghast.
"Unhand his hair," I said but you were totally enjoying the experience and no longer conscious of anything but his professionally coiffed hair. "Stop I say!"
"I can't it is so elegant, done in a classy style, absolutely 100% fabulous and above all stylish." You said as I tried to wrestle you off him.
"Stop! Both of you this is detrimental to my fabulous good looks," Wolfie stammered, trying to catch a hold of your roving hands. "You are a nasty woman! My hair!"
"Look how fetching you look now," you said to him, "you are fabulously engaging."
I stood up, I didn't know what to say. There he was sitting on the floor, and there you were standing next to him smoothing down his tresses and I realised standing you were as tall as he was sitting. I had to shake meself from that reverie.
"Oh my god, DEW we forgot about DEW," I shouted as everyone came running from wherever they had disappeared and well, the fire was out. And sitting there completely bald was Donald Trump. He looked a little disoriented.
"Are you ok?" I called him.
"Not bad, not bad. Feeling a bit obtuse, but other than that, not bad."
"Fabulous," I said.
I woke up then, not sure what the hell that was all about, still not sure. But one thing I am sure of is no more of your spicy food suggestions. Uh-huh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
