Mama called me from Memphis a few hours ago and asked me to turn on a pot of beans which had partially cooked earlier in the day.
I performed said task with alacrity, then returned to my movie. ("To Catch a Thief," in case you were wondering - Grace Kelly + Archibald Alexander Leach= amazing. Now I don't wonder why movie stars often change their names. "Cary Grant" is way snappier than Archibald Alexander Leach.)
Anyway, in a very few minutes, (I mean, like, a very, very few,) a repulsive scent wafted to me on the breeze. Yep, the beans were burnt. Quite completely, in fact.
Mama wasn't too happy.
She put on another pot when she came home, then went along with her business. (I don't know exactly what it was, 'cause I was hiding.) (Okay, not really hiding.)
And then a strange thing happened. I smelled something disgusting. Something nasty. Something which turned my insides upside-down.
A burn smell fresher and stronger than the previous one, which had begun to slowly die away.
Yes.
She had let the second pot burn.
That's what you call ironic.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Ugh, ugh, ugh. That's one of the worst smells ever invented.
All the same, it's better to burn beans than pot roast for ten people. When I did that there was no hole deep enough for me to hide in.
Well, your candle has been a nose-saver, that's for sure! It smells exactly like lipstick Mamaw used to wear, and I've always had this crazy thing for the smell of lipstick, though I can't wear it because it makes my lips peel.
Any parent who would name their child "Archibald" is bonkers. Absolutely bonkers.
I am with Emily- There really is no worse smell than burnt beans... and what a mess to scrape out the bottom of the pot! I burnt one so badly in the first year of our marriage that it took FOREVER to get it cleaned out!
Post a Comment