About a year ago, maybe longer, the Beast decided to turn a left-over ham bone into a soup. He found the recipe on his own. It called for both split peas and brown lentils–I’m guessing less than a cup of each.
But he brought home two-kilogram bags of each. That’s four kilograms of dried legumes.
I was so mad, too, because we don’t have a lot of cupboard space. But he promised he’d use them up in meals he’d plan.
That’s been a load of bullshit, but on Halloween night he decided to stew some lentils to have with sausages.
While they simmered, we sat in the sunroom with a cocktail, listening to the sweet sound of excited children hitting up the neighbourhood for treats.
Foodie: I can’t believe how much my quads hurt. It feels like I went for a run.
Beast: Did you?
Foodie: Holy shit, do you know what’s it from? It’s from show rehearsals! We had to keep practising our Halloween entrance and as Thor, I had to keep lunging for my hammer throw-down! Wow. That’s like truly sad.
Beast: I have 15 pages left in this book. Are you done? Don’t worry if you’re not. Just let me know when you are so I can finish without being interrupted.
Foodie: There goes that dog again. What the hell is he barking about? I really am going to find the owner one of these days. It’s obscene.
Foodie: It’s clearly not a puppy barking. That would be different. You can train a puppy. This is a grown-up dog whose owners do nothing to stop it from barking. I could understand a baby crying. You can’t help that. This can be helped.
Beast: Can you be quiet, please?
Foodie: How can you read? All I can do is listen to the dog barking.
Beast: Well, what can we do about it?
Foodie: I will roam the neighbourhood until I track down the owners.
Beast: I think they’re further away than you think.
Foodie: I will find it.
Beast: And then what?
Foodie: Talk to them, sensibly. Does the dog need help? Is it hungry? Does it need obedience lessons? A psychiatrist? I’ll contribute money because it’s barking every day, at every hour. This is a fucking shit show.
Beast: I’m worried about you.
Foodie: Well, I’m worried about you. Why did you buy those hair products?
Beast: Because I want full, lustrous curls.
Foodie: These products won’t give you the curls you want. Look at these before-and-after photos. I can’t believe anyone would believe that.
Beast: That’s why I bought them! Look at those curls!
Beast: I’ve read over 1,300 pages by or about Nobel-Prize-Winning author Saul Bellow this year so keep mocking me. Go on. What are you doing?
Foodie: Just reading this thing on Alexander von Humboldt in the New Yorker.
Beast: Oh, so now you want to read?
Foodie: Can you be quiet, please?
Then the Beast began playing music videos on his phone.
As soon as I heard the first few notes of the Pizza Nova theme song, my body began to convulse in uncontrollable laughter. We played it three times in a row. After every playing, it just got funnier.
In the kitchen, stirring the lentils, the Beast wanted to take things up a notch. It was Halloween, he reasoned. So he played Salt n Pepa’s Shoop. We danced. Next up was TLC’s Waterfalls.
“I don’t know this one,” I said.
“What? How do you not this jam, girl?” he replied.
We danced, sipped on spritzes, ate our dinner, finished Season 2 of The Killing and fell asleep on the couch.
This morning, after the Beast showered, I found him in the washroom trying to apply his new hair products.
“Is it working?” he asked. “Can you see the curls?”
“Yes,” I said, holding back laughter. “and they’re fabulous.”