Ham Stew (pt 1)
Art by William Blake
My brother and I sit eyes downcast in anticipation of our predicted forecast for that thing called: family dinner.
Father sits at the head of tha table, though the middle has been removed since the divorce leaving only 4 chairs, making it difficult to be head when only sides remain. Regardless he dominates one regal quarter of the square.
The ham stew sits in a comically large pot in the middle of the slab of old oak, steaming, no, sweating, condensation running down the stinking steel soaking the finish and leaving it's own form of stain.
There is silence.
My brother is the first to speak. Though the younger he has always possessed an idiosyncratically firm form of stubbornness that can manifest as bravery, partly admired and partly drives me crazy.
"Dad we're not eating the ham stew."
Silence grows heavier.
"Dad no-one is eating the ham stew it's not even a thing have you ever heard of ham broth no which is why I suppose you had to make your own evidently by putting a piece of fucking ham in water and applying heat."
Father's brow has shifted. Following my brother's lead I chime in:
"Yeah like you can't put a piece of salmon in water call it salmon stew throw some green onion in there or something and just expect everyone to be down with salmon stew just all of a sudden."
Father's hand has lifted and though he possesses the strength to move dexterously through the salt-water like density of the ensuing lack of voice or noise drowning the room neither I nor my brother's tongues do. He takes a cheap Bic pen from his pocket, walks to his office to grab a piece of blank printer paper, which he spends approximately 12 minutes 32 seconds writing on, stands, takes two and a half steps, and places it in front of me.
"Matthew, I have followed with some interest the sentences you have gurgled out and the responses you have received over the last 16 years. You are obviously a moderately intelligent person but I suspect you have issues with your ability to formulate cogent and intelligent dialogue. Although you may have some good points you will not receive any degree of respect unless you can formulate sentences with correctly spelled words that adjoin into intelligible sentences, interfacing with cogent and associated lines of logic. I do not intend to be rude but would counsel you to spend some time learning proper grammar, sentence structure and basic spelling. As for the stew I have a few basic observations:
Fuck you.
Your house keeper is supposed to do this shit.
I can't eat it either. We will never speak of this again.
Tell your brother we're getting pizza."
We got pizza.
Read pt 3
https://twitter.com/mitthradiumn
Haha wow incredible response by your dad. And I still enjoy your way of writing!
He literally writes like that verbatim, and then also literally only laughs when a dude gets hit in the balls on TV. He has never laughed at another thing.
Haha interesting character. And thank you I just learned what verbatim means. Which made the first part of that sentence sound pretty fun! "Literally writes like that verbatim" ^^
You can use that to rhyme with words that end with -im. Does that mean I get royalties
No royalties, just some dukes and counts. :P
Haha sounds old-school!
Haha thanks I guess I'll have to give you some percentage if I find enough -im words to write a song with!
Some suggestion:
vitamim (i know it's vitamin but i feel like your accent could make it work)
ketami..me. fuck this is weirdly hard
Oh my screen name!
yes gotta get that passive income mayne
that is one awesome dad... My dad was a Reader and a teacher by profession... but I wish he gave me a note like that when my dyslexia was still spelled dileksia... My dad also was a master of inedible soups, that consisted of one whole cabbage and one whole onion boiled in large pan of salted water that he actually enjoyed himself. :)
lmao oh my fuck that sounds foul. The ham stew was a real thing in our house when dad got a big slab of pork from a patient or something and put some quartered potatoes and carrots in there. it was inedible but it he made so much it could of fed us for like 2 weeks, every night it was "dad whats for supper" "well there's still some ham stew left" "oh yeah" and then everyone would make their own supper lol (dad included).
The ham stew was not to be thrown out either and became more of a symbol, of what I wish I was talented enough to make a funny metaphor about. I think dad said principle.
its awesome, your dad sounds like such a Spartan - with passion for sailing and practical stews.
I would agree but one time he seasoned salmon with dill pickle popcorn flavoring and then never stopped so I think of him bit past Sparta, more like Caligula era Rome. Food deviant and defouler.
oh man now i'm imaginging however caligula fucked up eating to make it as weird as possible
edit: is there written records of caligula's human right violations against food I have to know
now I'm thinking about the ramifications of going back in time to give caligula access to dill pickle popcorn seasoning
we are all very fortunate the time is a temporal dimension and there is no way for Caligula and our dads to have a cookout
i think cars would still exist
Hey @mitthradiumn!
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ty for the pizza
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