The Dinner Disaster

By Audrey Lintner

Photo courtesy of stock.xchng

Most families have that one story they tell year after year. You know the one. Something so horrible yet so hysterical, that you can’t help but giggle at the memory. While discussing Christmas mishaps with my co-workers, one particular tale had us all falling out of our chairs and laughing uncontrollably. I was inspired to turn it into a poem, presented here for your entertainment. 

My co-worker swears that every word is true.

T’was the night before Christmas, and way across town,

some folks eyed their dinner with whispers and frowns.

Traditional dishes, there were quite a few.
But then there were others that made them say, “Ew!”

Instead of a turkey, baloney of sorts
was brought to the table ‘midst staring and snorts.

It filled up a casserole dish to the top

in a sausage-like casing that threatened to pop.

Made of meat and potatoes, t’was spongy and soft,
and each of the diners declined with a cough.

The side dishes offered were all made with care,
except for the one that was left sitting there.

The taters, alas, had been left out all night.

Now blackened and oxidized, they were a fright.

So Hal and his wife had a plan of their own;
they’d salvage this meal with a salad from home.

A fabulous dish that could serve o’er a dozen,
and have some to spare for the hungriest cousin.

They bore it aloft and straight into the kitchen

(the weight of it left all their shoulders a-twitchin’).

When who to their wondering eyes should appear,
But Mother-In-Law, with a good-natured sneer.

“That salad you have looks too naked, I fear.
I’ve got just the thing to improve it, right here!”

A big box of croutons she held overhead;

“No, wait! Stop! Don’t do it!” her son-in-law pled.

Time moved in slow motion, as though they’d been drugged,
For down poured the croutons with ten million bugs!

The guests were revolted, the salad defiled;
Hal counted backward so’s not to get riled.

When all was re-settled and order regained,

the obvious humor left anger restrained.

As most dinners go, it was not the best end,
but at least it was shared among family and friends.

It’ll pass into legend and family lore;
someday they’ll all laugh at what happened before.

And I heard Hal exclaim with a stiff upper lip,
“I’m starving to death; but don’t pass the prune whip!”

3 thoughts on “The Dinner Disaster

  1. Just the kind of gross food story to get my day started, Audrey! Now, if I mess up any food, it’ll be better than THIS and I’ll read it to the family just before serving! (Or, maybe after?)

    Thanks, and I truly hope all my Pickle Family is having a great Christmas today! xoxo

  2. Now I don’t feel so bad about our “under cover of a fine layer of chocolate” fruit cake debacle. Inedible, but at least no bugs!

    Merry Christmas, Pickles!


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