The Food Disaster
Amy. Age 13. PA

The plain white sheet lies over my newly tan legs. My big head of very dark hair lies on a pillow that pushes in just a little bit. The pillow cover is definitely washed with Tide laundry detergent. As my eyes adjust to the natural light that is rising in from the east, I start to pull myself up into a sitting position. I remember from last night everyone saying we have to get up at 10:00 o’clock sharp to get to the beach. I head on over to the kitchen to check the time on the microwave –8:56. As I am just about ready to go lie back down, I see my uncle appear in the doorway. He has a huge smile on his face as big as the moon. “Hey, Amy, come sit over here. I want you to try something!”

Uncle Johnathan heads on over to the shiny silver fridge. I don’t realize that I close my eyes for a little while, because the next thing I know I open my eyes and see Uncle Johnathan’s left hand on a plastic container and his right hand on a four pronged fork. Slurrrppp! Slurrpp! I know right then and there that in the clear plastic container is leftover spaghetti, but the unusual thing is there was no steam coming off of the spaghetti. There is no condensation on the inside walls of the container. There is no sauce falling off of the yellow spaghetti noodles—it is stuck there, almost like it is frozen there.

“Oh hey, sleepy girl, I am just enjoying some cold leftover spaghetti. Here this is what I wanted you to try.” He holds out the shiny silver fork with exactly four strands of cold spaghetti. My face is in shock. Does he really except me to open my mouth to cold spaghetti and sauce? I stand up, use my left foot to start and then follow with my right foot. And it just repeats: left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Amy, the girl who is scared to try cold spaghetti, walks over surreptitiously to her uncle, the one who thinks I am crazy, his eyes surprised. I sit down in the chair near the island in the middle of the kitchen. I open my mouth about an inch wide so he can only fit two of the four in my mouth. His smile, the one that is making me nervous, translates to me that it will be fine, just do it, and just explore new things. I feel the cold spaghetti noodles and sauce touch my tongue. I close my mouth and chew chew chew the macaroni. My face explodes with a huge smile; it is not that bad at all!

“It was really good. Can I have more?!” I say with delight. Uncle Johnathon’s face is shown to perfection.

So if your spaghetti is cold, or it has lost some sauce, you’ll know your spaghetti has been exploring new “places”!

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