Menolyrical - Final Friday Fiction

As I am otherwise occupied this end of month, have scheduled this re-post from last year's October offering. It contains the link to one of me personal favourite recipes. Some of you will remember it. Others who are new or have the menopolyxinaemic trouble will not. Hope you all enjoy it, nevertheless. 

It was a dark and stormy night.......................................................................................... .....................................................................................................................................................................................

Rubbish - it was practically broad daylight. No; not that either.

In these more Northern climes, at the end of October, it's pretty much getting dark by tea time. So it was nearly dark. As it was tea time, I was racing home. A bowl of hot soup and a chunk of home made bread would do just fine after being out in the wild and woolly, early winter weather............... ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Oh okay. It was the suburbs; though they can be wild you know. I was the one who was all woolly, trying to keep the wind away. Halloween is early winter........................................................................
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Tsk...alright then. Late autumn. It was no less bluster and chill for the nomenclature.

As I was saying, I was rushing home for that bowl of soup and thinking how I had prepared it the evening before. It was a HUGE pumpkin to chop up, but the new knife Albert had given me was sharp as shark's gnashers and made the job easier than anticipated. First I cut right through the middle of that monster. The pale grey-green skin (it was a "Queensland Blue") was thick and leathery. The bright orange flesh almost seemed to beam light into the kitchen.

Next I cut the two halves into half. Each of the four pieces again were cut into two - and so on until there were thirty two bits on the bench.

Then I pulled out the special peeler; the kind which you pull down the body of the vegetable to rip the skin from the flesh. Pumpkins are a difficult breed and need that adapted tool. It's a bit like stripping bark from a tree. Not that I've tried that - but you get the drift. The carrots are a less rowdy bunch altogether.

The point is, one has to work for one's pumpkin carrot silk soup! The stock, herbs and spices... they cause no trouble at all.

I pulled out the soup pan and got the heat cranked up. Turning back to the bench, the naked pumpkin flesh made me pause for a moment. It appeared to be weeping. For the briefest moment I thought I heard noises.

Anyway. All got put in the pot, boiled and simmered for due time and then blitzed and then sieved.... oh yeah, it got done good and proper. Now it awaited my arrival to be heated once more, and get dunked with that bread.

Just as I was drawing past the neighbour's place, I heard some unusual noises. There was a kind of rustling and a low rumbling. I stopped by the wall for a moment and the noise stopped. Remembering the peculiar sensation of noise last night, I started to feel colder than the wind was making me. I sneaked a peek round and over the gate. At the bottom of their path, near the door, the kids had put out their jackolanterns. It occurred to me that perhaps I might have attacked the pumpkin through its head and created a lantern myself. Then again, why bother? No kids at my place and I certainly didn't want to be encouraging any unwanted callers seeking sweeties or playing silly sausages.

I moved on.

The noises grew loud. VERY LOUD.

I turned back to look over the gate.........................................................................................................
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I could hear them................... "WE ARE THE PUMPs AND YOU KILL OUR KIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WE ARE THE PUMPs AND YOU KILL OUR KIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WE ARE THE PUMPs AND YOU KILL OUR KIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I ran backwards the remaining few yards to home. 

"Alll-BERT! Pour that soup away - NOW!!! It has gone sour. We'll have cheese on toast!"...

3 comments:

  1. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh we love the story...tis the time of year for ghouls and boyz and delicious soup!! Love that recipe!!
    Hugs Cecilia

    ReplyDelete
  2. hahahaha... your story had a scara sideffect in my crib... the dad is just back from grocery shopping and guess what he furgot to buy?... so we will have cheese toast too :o)

    ReplyDelete

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