of Spanish rice & electric skillets

20 March 2013

of Spanish rice & electric skillets

 

What’s beyond stubborn?

I would make Balaam’s donkey

seem cooperative!

But if memory serves me right,

 

I was young, five or six,

and it was lunch.

Spanish rice with huge chunky tomatoes,

green bell peppers, onions,

 

cooked to perfection (supposedly)

in mom’s favorite, all-purpose,

torture device:

the electric skillet.

 

Dad ate it, mom too,

older brother and sister even,

but not me! No way!

I refused!

 

(like Jonah, only I couldn’t try to run away

and get swallowed by a whale

for two or three days and nights.

I missed all the fun.)

 

"You’re not leaving this table

young man until you at least

try it!"

Wanna bet?

 

Nearly twelve hours later,

after scolding and spanking,

begging and pleading, mom

finally relented.

 

I was sent to bed hungry, but I knew

I had won and I would never

have to eat anything I didn’t like

ever again.

 

(well until I was married …

but as they say,

that’s another story!)

Karma, ya know?