The Fork of July

The party is clearly strategic entertaining. Aperitifs flow freely. A small cheese and cracker colony exists briefly in the living room and tries to change the world. Sinister bowls of something called “gumbo” infiltrate the crowd, with instructions to escape rapidly the next morning.

Dessert is bread pudding. A line forms in the kitchen. My dad is handed a helping and, not atypically, appears to be reaching for it with his fingers.

“You need a fork!” I exclaim, rhetorically. He needs a fork.

“Fork!” exclaims our hostess (apparently standing behind me). She extracts an arm from her present task, snakes it six feet down the counter, retrieves a plastic fork from the fork jar and hands it to me, saying, Texasly, “here y’are.”

My dad already has a fork. He got it with his pudding. I missed it. Now I have a fork too.

“Pudding?” the caterer hands me a plate of pudding. With a fork. Now I have two forks.

I pocket one quietly. It doesn’t pay to draw attention to yourself around here. My stewpidity may be the death of me; I need forkitude to survive.


2 Responses to “The Fork of July”

  1. 1 jenlinnan July 6, 2006 at 4:32 am

    Some things I like about this post:

    1) the concept of cheese and cracker colonies. they sound so cute! and so naive! and so tasty!

    2) your implication about what will happen to the people who consume the gumbo.

    3) “Fork!”

  2. 2 jenlinnan July 7, 2006 at 1:52 pm

    Is that strikethrough effect on the last line the equivalent of auto-chastising?

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