Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Potluck (Meal or Gathering) Deadline 7-26-12 @ 10 AM NY Time (07/19/12)
TITLE: No She Didn't
By Brenda Rice
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On the third Wednesday of each month,
Our church seniors gather to share a lunch.
I made my fantastic squash casserole.
It’s good for the heart and good for the soul.
Every ingredient is approved by the USDA.
I always feel safer that way.
Esther, a newby in our group,
made some strange looking soup.
I discreetly skirted her dish,
headed to one brought by my friend, Trish.
Soon my casserole was history.
This to me was no mystery.
Esther’s soup was getting lots of attention.
I overheard several honorable mentions.
Sauntering up to the pot of Esther’s soup,
without looking in, I took a small scoop.
I found the color odd, the consistency too thick,
but with trepidation, my spoon I did lick.
My tongue had a spasm, to the roof of my mouth it stuck.
Someone gave my back a slap as if wishing me good luck.
I coughed, I sputtered as my face turned red.
I thought the explosion I heard was my head.
Water, water my mind screamed.
Tears filled my eyes and freely they streamed.
My mucus membranes were suddenly enraged,
as my pallet became completely engaged.
Unspeakable things happened to my nose.
It began to mimic a water hose.
The water brought relief but it was minimal.
My thoughts of Esther were those of a criminal.
No she didn’t! She wouldn’t I yelled silently.
Everyone knows I dislike spicy, violently!
This was no accident, I assured my wounded pride.
Just as the newby and I were about to collide,
I caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye.
Oops, it was our pastor strolling by.
With all the restraint I could muster,
I greeted him with gracious luster.
Recognizing the newby’s soup in my hand,
Pastor commented it was the best he ever had.
Reeling with hidden anger,
I nodded okay.
That was not the word I wanted to say.
Alas, the fire inside me subsided.
And the newby and I…never collided.
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