On Friday, December 2, 2011, I ate two tortellini named Giana Gorgonzola and Isabella Mozzarella (among others). This is their story.
“Ahh, this is the life,” said Giana, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. “I seriously don’t think I’ve ever been more relaxed. We have to do this spa thing more often.”
“I don’t know,” said Isabella, propping herself up on her elbows to look at Giana. “This tomato sauce is kinda weird.”
“I’ve already told you,” Giana said impatiently, “it’s an excellent moisturizer. Only the classiest places use it.”
“I guess I do feel pretty moist,” said Isabella.
Giana smiled. “There you go. Now will you relax? That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
Isabella squirmed a little from where she lay in the sauce. “I would if I didn’t keep breathing in this white stuff. What’d they call it?”
“Parmigiano,” Giana said with Italian gusto. “It’s supposed to invigorate your soul.”
“What does that even mean?” Isabella asked.
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Giana said with a shrug.
“Where did the spa attendants go?” Isabella asked, looking around. “Aren’t they supposed to be, you know, attending to us?”
Giana raised an eyebrow and sat up on one elbow. “Girl, you need to chill out. What’s your deal?”
“It’s just…” Isabella looked around one last time, and then leaned close to Giana with a lowered voice. “It’s just that I can’t shake the feeling that some hungry grad student is about to swoop in with her cheap Wal-Mart fork and devour us in less than ten bites.”
Giana stared at Isabella unblinkingly for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “Izzy, you have been watching way too many horror movies.”
Isabella sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
“A hungry grad student? Really?” Giana shook her head in bewilderment. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Isabella smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that was a little random.”
“Tell me about—“
At that point I, the prophesied grad student, speared Giana with my cheap fork and popped her into my mouth. She never saw it coming, so I think it was fairly painless. I don’t know for sure if the parmesan cheese invigorated her soul, but it sure invigorated mine. Whatever that means.
The End.
How to Make Tortellini:
- Cook tortellini according to package instructions
- Drain
- Pour some Prego tomato sauce on your tortellini. (Yes, it must be Prego. Do it or suffer the consequences.)
- Pour some parmesan cheese on your tortellini
- Reheat in microwave if needed
- Partake, and await soul invigoration. (Don’t worry, it will happen.)
Tomorrow is Episode 6. Run and hide, future dinner. Run and hide. Because me and my Wally Mart fork are coming to getcha. Beware!
*cue creepy music*
2 comments:
I can't afford tortellini or Prego. It's been so many years since I actually purchased spaghetti sauce. We all prefer the homemade variety now. The best was when Jenese sent me a huge bag full of tomatoes from her garden and I turned them into sauce. We all agreed it was the best marinara we'd ever tasted.
Since I've never stepped inside a spa, I've often wondered what they do there. But since I don't like to be nearly naked in front of other people, I don't like hands on my face, I don't like strangers touching my body, I don't like hot tubs or saunas, and I can't handle strong fragrances, I think I'll probably die without ever knowing.
That's cute!
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