Tonight's Poet Corner: A Chef's Regret
A Chef's Regret
by Belinda Roddie
He had hoped to please the rowdy family
by providing the finest of the finest,
marinated to the point of perfection, and
spiced to the edge of insanity. And yet he
instantly wished he hadn't because they shared
no gratitude for the colorful displays and
admittedly delicious trays upon trays of food,
merely whining about the candles emitting
too much heat, or the couple sitting nearby
being too romantic, or the chairs being too small
because of their bulging rumps. And the chef
wished instead that he could have taken a fork
right to the father's gizzard, a frying pan to the
mother's forehead, and a baster to the son because
he was fat enough to roast like a pig before sticking
a Granny Smith apple into his maw.
by Belinda Roddie
He had hoped to please the rowdy family
by providing the finest of the finest,
marinated to the point of perfection, and
spiced to the edge of insanity. And yet he
instantly wished he hadn't because they shared
no gratitude for the colorful displays and
admittedly delicious trays upon trays of food,
merely whining about the candles emitting
too much heat, or the couple sitting nearby
being too romantic, or the chairs being too small
because of their bulging rumps. And the chef
wished instead that he could have taken a fork
right to the father's gizzard, a frying pan to the
mother's forehead, and a baster to the son because
he was fat enough to roast like a pig before sticking
a Granny Smith apple into his maw.
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