Monday, April 8, 2013

Jackals With Forks

There are things in life that cannot be unseen.  Car accidents.  Kevin Ware's leg.  Cher.  These moments are forever burned upon the iris and the impression leaves one with a squeamish worry about the potential for this situation playing out on them.  On Friday we went out to dinner at the Claim Jumper.  Genevieve had been battling some sort of bug for a few days and had thrown up enough, that meals weren't being pressed upon her.  She finally seemed back to her normal self so a dinner out seemed an order.  As soon as we sat in the booth, however, Genevieve began working herself into a frenzy ("I can't eat anything cause my tummy will get full and I'll throw up again), to the point that she actually did puke up about a quarts worth of strawberries and bananas from lunch time.  Fortunately Gina had a dog bag in her purse from Prince Charming and caught it all just as our waiter walked up to take the drink order.  "I'll come back," he said as he kept on walking.  She laid down on her death bed the booth seat for the rest of dinner.  That is until dessert found it's way to our table.  My favorite: the mint and chip mud pie.  A mountain of ice cream formed into an Oreo pie crust with thick hot fudge and whip cream on top.  You ever stand out in the desert at night and hear a lone coyote howl?  If you do, don't stand in one place.  That's a cry to the rest of the pack that something delicious has been found.  If you stay long enough, you may realize it was you.  The "mmmmm" from Arianna and Rosaline and the clink of  fork being raised was enough to stir the final member of their pack and they descended upon this hill of goodness like a wall of locusts on a lonely desert oasis.  I had only enough time to plunge my fork into the center of the pie and hold it in place while the carnivores (icecreamacors?) devoured around it like piranha stripping the meat off a bone.  So much for the patriarch getting first choice.  I was relegated to licking the plate, eyes alert, quietly looking up, under the brow; watching the chocolate covered mouths that surrounded me lick at their chops, ready to bolt should they choose to attack once again.  It was terrifying.  I only hope that one day they don't acquire a taste for Daddy.  There won't even be enough time to scream.

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