The delicious dinner

A few nights ago, Andre was supposed to have made supper for Alisha but forgot to. Later in the night, while Cowman was over, Alisha made a comment about how hungry she was since her brother hadn't made her anything.

Let us pause a moment for a brief aside -- as in like Shakespeare does -- for those of you not living in Newfoundland:
"Cowman", you ask? Who names themselves Cowman? Well, Cowman does, that's who. Cowman is quite possibly the sketchiest/funniest/interestingest person I know. He moved in with his girlfriend when he was like 15 -- he was engaged and like 12 hours away from getting married at 19 -- he now sleeps on the tiny, 4-foot bed upstairs on Wednesday nights after open mic... lets see, what else? He's got a tattoo of a cow on his arm -- Very few people know his real name -- he wears one of those "french painter"-type hats all the time... you know the kind I mean! Anyway, just thought I'd explain Cowman. He's a cool guy.

So anyway, Alisha was complaining about being hungry so I, being the gentleman that I am, said that I'd make something for her. I grabbed a hotdog bun from on top of the fridge and proceeded to fill it with the following: canola oil, steak spice, onion powder, peanut butter, the contents of a teabag, Aunt Jemima pancake syrup, and one slice of processed cheese. Alisha wouldn't touch it, but Cowman said that he'd give it a try, so he took a bite.

Then he took another bite.

When he was about half done, he told us that it tasted like garlic bread with peanut butter on it. This somehow convinced me to try it. Let me tell you -- I almost threw up. It was a gustatory insult of the higher order. My tongue retreated past my uvula, and I gagged what was left in my mouth out into the toilet. Not at all fun.

Cowman had a few more bites, at which point Coleman entered the kitchen scene. Not having seen me expel my portion, he gave it a try, too. Yeah... I've gotta say... it was fun when it wasn't me. Andre, Tony and Alisha were having none of it, so Coleman and I decided to hold Tony down and make him eat some. We enjoyed only limited success, but by the end of it all, Tony had peanut butter and Aunt Jemima covering at least half the surface area of his face. I would've taken a picture, but Tony wouldn't leave it on his face long enough for me to take the batteries from my keyboard and put them in the camera. I'm guessing the smell from his angle was pretty bad.

Anyway, that's all folks! Labs and a-studyin' to do!