The Daily Post at WordPress holds writing challenges every week and so I decided, after telling myself “I should try that some day” to make today that day.
The deadline is like, right now but seeing as how I’ve been up all night and have crossed the border between late night and early morning and most people aren’t awake yet I think I still might slip in at that last second.
The challenge for the week of September 9th is: Be Kind. Don’t Rewind
We’re taught to think that a well-told story — fictional or not — starts with A, goes on to B, and ends with Z. We automatically follow the rule established by the King of Hearts in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland:
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?’ he asked.
‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.’
(Louis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland)
For this Writing Challenge, we’re asking you to disobey the King.
Sounds easy enough right?
Well here goes.
There’s really nothing in the world quite like the feeling of relief that one experiences when it’s all over.
We all need to eat but I’m confident in assuming that aroma, taste, and that gastronomical joy that accompanies some well prepared food all play a major role in making us want to as well.
Why else would the best tasting meals be the most unhealthy?
The rush of flavours. The surprise in feeling your mouth suddenly full of many strange and overwhelming combinations. You know that it’s not proper etiquette to sit at a dinner table with your cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, but you can’t help it. Your face is stuffed and as ashamed as you’re supposed to feel you’re even more disgusted by how much you’re enjoying this.
A sweet start, salty notes throughout, a chewy finish and just the tiniest hint of acidity that you manage to choke back and hold on to as your vision blurs with unexpected tears.
The route from mouth to stomach is direct and even the most inept navigator would have no trouble, but tonight traffic is just zooming. It’s as if they’ve opened up extra lanes on the highway, and this sickeningly scrumptious bouillabaisse, the artisanal meal that your mouth has pulverized into gourmet mush, is literally spewing through your esophagus.
You’ve always wanted to speak other languages but you’ve never had an ear for interpretation. It’s no surprise you don’t understand what messages your stomach’s sending, though the guests seated nearest have picked up the clues and have begun to inch away from you.
“Hear, Hear” the person to your right exclaims.
“My compliments to the chef!” you call out, “That was exquisite.”
Dinner is served.
Eating Spelled Backwards is Puke
By: J. Alex Alferez