The problem wasn't the burn marks on the toast, no. She were far too old to deal with that nonsense. If bread couldn't cook within the allocated amount of time, well! Then bread would have to answer to a higher, plumpier, chewier version of the Bread God himself.
Yes.
There was a god, and he was made out of bread, and he was a He.
Or was he?
Upon her third bite of her second piece of toast (the first was only crust and therefore could not be called toast at all, nor bread, but merely an 'afterthought of the possibility of bread, if the right person got their act together'. What. A. Shame.) she experienced a change of heart and two flashes in her brain bin that was her actual thinking brain located inside the skull that sat inside a flesh prison being her face and head.
The Bread God was IN FACT a woman. It had to be. It had to be the Bread Goddess.
As such, the two thoughts turned out to be: what a FUCKING ORGASMIC piece of toast this second one is. FUCK. Followed closely- but not too close because foodgasms do not allow for the required thinking time- by: how in GOD'S NAME can this be from a man? Since when do men produce orgasms on such a monumental scale?
"Sharna!" she cried when her friend walked into their shabby excuse for a kitchen. "Sharna! Taste this bread!"
Sharna said, "Shhhh, fuck, Ilma. It's eight forty am." And she proceeded to put the coffee maker on while shuffling enigmatically in her flower-printed robe.
"I have never known Jamie Oliver or Huey whatisname to give foodgasms such as this!" Ilma said while brandishing toast about, in hopes Sharna would turn around and fall head over heels.
"They're both hasbeens aren't they?" Sharna replied sensibly with her back still turned.
Ilma wrinkled one brow elegantly. "I honestly don't know."
She thought about this as Sharna went about her breakfast making in a heavy-bowl-clanking, sharp-knife-clinking, soft-water-rushing kind of way that possibly involved fruit and something cinnamony.
Could someone like a famous chef disappear from the limelight after producing such a fuss? Which one of Jamie's recipes had she tried making? And did it turn out like the original with such zest, such flair, most moist, that it actually had given her a foodgasm?
To answer this question she would have to search what exactly an orgasm was, and how it directly related to the food she was eating, and therefore, the inexplicable effects it created throughout the human body. It would require days of research, a new pen, a newer laptop- most likely one that had GB of RAM- snacks in all varieties of unhealth and mess producing, a new view to stare out in contemplation or reflection when the situation called for it, and actually, in all likeliness, a new car.
This was a long list of things Ilma needed to finish her thesis. She thought about the weight now on her shoulders, and she sat back in her chair, pondering, looking lost in an idea but photogenically ready, and ever slightly the mysterious creature that merits a gaze out of the corner of the eye to satisfy that curious itch.
Ilma sighed dramatically. "Sharn, how am I supposed to come up with six thousand dollars before Halloween?"
Sharna snorted in her glass of green breakfast smoothie. Ilma waited in sympathy. Breakfast juices caused all sorts of problems in ones life. Ilma was here and she was understanding in matters such as these.
"Dude, are you doing drugs?" Sharna wiped her mouth with her robe sleeve.
"Dirtying the robe!" Ilma shrieked.
"What?"
"It's sacred!"
Sharna rolled her eyes, took another sip, and then asked, "You need six thousand dollars in two weeks?"
"Huh? Two weeks?" Ilma flipped open her diary and saw, as she had not suspected, that Halloween was in two weeks. "What is this?" she flipped it closed in disgust.
"Are you writing a book about recipes?" Sharna asked, once again in a serious manner that was far too serious for a recipe book discussion but not serious enough for a hostile take down on the body's culinary senses.
"It's for involvements that all deal in food."
The fact of the matter was, Ilma didn't think she could trust Sharna with the heavy burden of this task. Then suddenly: "Are you eating toast with Vegemite AND cream cheese?"
"Yes, and it's the most delightful thing I have ever decided to do on a spontaneous whim. Whims are hard, Shaz, much harder than algebra or making apple pie from scratch, both of which I have tried to do on a whim and both times I have failed."
Sharna laughed long and loud. "I remember your pie episode. It was a saga."
"Yes," Ilma bristled as if she actually had fur to stand on end. "Wasn't it ever. But this isn't whim! This is fantasy turned reality! This is a dramatic comedy with romance stuffed in!"
"Romance? Ok, Ilma, I have an idea." Sharna twinkled bright-eyed and angelic at Ilma, and Ilma narrowed her eyebrows in a suspicious, sheepish sort of grin.
"I'll allow it," she said.
"Well!" Sharna started eagerly, and put her glass aside as a necessary precaution due to arm-flailing and head-tossing in moments of excitement. "How about we go on a double date?! I;ll set you up with one of Jeremy's single friends!"
Ilma inhaled impressively. A date? With a man? Could she be unsuspecting and hook this fellow into her book-writing, maybe even convince him to do the actual writing while she dictated and ate red jelly mixed with chocolate custard from a bowl? After all, women shouldn't do anything overly exerting without the right sustenance.
"Well?" Sharna prompted, still eager-eyed but a glaze forming where interest should be, as if she were slowly turning into a statue.
"I think it's very important to cross-examine another persons work," Ilma said, nodding more to herself.
"Excellent!" Sharna exclaimed happily. "I'll head to the gym and then get back early so we can prepare!"
Ilma stared at a fridge magnet in the shape of a large white tooth, completely lost in her world-domination plans. "Yes," she droned, almost as if in a trance. "I believe Trevor will need training to correct his hideous posture. Ergonomic chairs are all the rage now, did you know?"
"Of course they are, everyone knows." Sharna shoved all her dishes in the sink and took a deep breath, turned to the fridge and then shook herself as if to clear an ugly image. "Why Jeremy would go in there is beyond me. I'll clean it next week. Ok Illy!" she said, turned and waved absurdly. "I'll be back! Try to pick something sensual to wear!"
"Sensual? What?" Ilma turned as Sharna left. "Wait! Did you say date or staff review meeting?"
No comments:
Post a Comment