Saturday's Storyteller: "Why does it smell like curry in here?"

by Belinda Roddie

"Why does it smell like curry in here?"

"What's that, dear?"

"Ugh. I said why does it smell like curry in here, Granny! Gawd!"

"Oh, sorry, Branson, sweetie. My hearing's not what it used to be."

"Course it isn't. Jesus."

"I don't smell anything. Are you sure you've had enough sleep?"

"Uh. Yes. I slept for twelve fucking hours today."

"Well. I haven't smelled curry since the day I smuggled it into the country, forty-five years ago."

"...You smuggled curry?"

"Oh, not just curry, dear! That was the ruse. There was cocaine hidden in the curry!"

"...What."

"Rock cocaine, specifically. In little baggies. Course, airport security's sure gotten tighter since, but we still wanted to be sneaky. So we had an Indian friend make a whoooole batch of curry, and we hid the baggies right in there!"

"How the hell did you...?"

"Oh, simple, love! We were in Mumbai at the time, smoking and drinking and having so much sex that I couldn't see straight for months..."

"Not surprised anymore, by this point."

"...and sure enough, boss wants us to fly this crack cocaine out to Las Vegas for a buddy of his. Fat little man, too! Not so good in the sack."

"Wha - how many people have you had sex with, Granny?!"

"More than you could ever dream of, sonny! So we declared our curry at customs since it'd be much easier than stowing it in our suitcases, and away we went! I got to eat some of the curry later, actually, once at the hotel. Phew! Curry in America's never that spicy, let me tell you that!"

"So...you helped smuggle drugs from India to the United States...through Indian cuisine."

"That's the whole kit and caboodle!"

"...Huh. I guess that's kind of lit."

"Not as lit at that fat druglord was when we made love that night, lemme tell ya!"

"Okay, not cool anymore."

"Different times back then! Why, we would smoke the finest cannabis until our nether regions were numb!"

"Granny!"

"Made the whole experience pretty surreal, quite honestly..."

"Granny!"

"Oh! Yes, Branson?"

"...I still don't know why it smells like curry in here."

"Oh. Probably the neighbors cooking up something. You know how Nancy loves feeding her girlfriend."

"Nancy has a girlfriend?"

"Oh, yes! Lovely curvy thing."

"Isn't she, like, eighty now?"

"Doesn't make a difference in the world. They have fun."

"I'm sure they do."

"...But before that, of course, Tina and I sure reminded each other that age is just a number!"

"Can I go home now?!"

This week's prompt was provided by the fact that I thought I smelled curry in my condo. Arden had nothing to do with this. Don't blame her.