YOU CAN NEVER JUDGE A POT BY ITS PASTA

• Felicity Handreck, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2019

A mini tornado roared around the library bawling, “I want another baby chino.” “Let’s get your creaming soda,” his mother implored. The little tike dissipated out the door leaving books scattered in his wake. Daphne and Ryan who had been watching sniggered to one another. Their dad picked up one of the books. “This was my favourite story.” Ryan spoke, “It looks boring.” “You can never judge a book by its cover,” Dad replied.

When they arrived home Daphne said, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could make paint like in the story.” “Well, why not?” Ryan asked. “We’re going to make paint!” Daphne squealed. They scrambled out the car door with a bag of groceries.

Daphne delighted in dumping in daisies. Ryan relished wrecking raspberries. And to finish off they added mother’s turmeric powder. “Wont mum be pleased that she doesn’t have to buy us paint,” Ryan proudly said. Mother called, “Time to leave for Flora’s wedding rehearsal.”

As they headed for the house, mother came out the door holding a cooking pot. She placed it down. “I wondered where those groceries got to,” mother smiled taking the shopping bag from Daphne. She went back inside. Ryan asked, “What will we do with the paint?” “Lets put the paint in that pot mother left here” Daphne replied.

They both had their eyes glued to the front door as Ryan slopped the paint into the pot. Just as the last drop plopped in, mother opened the door. Ryan slipped on the lid. “Thank-you,” mother said, as she took the pot and placed it in the car.

When they arrived at the church, dad carried the pot into the kitchen. Daphne and Ryan slipped in after him. When he left they peeped inside the pot. Pasta lay there like festering and lumpy custard. “Our dinner,” Ryan groaned. They realized the music had stopped. Footsteps were echoing down the hall. They heard hungry voices. The wedding party entered. “I think we should get pizza tonight, I don’t like pasta,” Daphne said. “Yeah, how about a change mum?” Ryan added. “What’s come over you?” asked Mother lifting the lid off the pot.

Long, long after the wedding, the family sat down to their pasta on the patio. Flora’s tot ran across the lawn screaming, “I want pasta” and leaving rose petals in his wake. “Remember,” Daphne whispered to Ryan. He grinned and winked back.