Saturday, 18 May 2013

My Last French Fry

A quasi-parody of My Last Duchess, by Robert Browning, in which the narrator reveals his murderous dislike of sharing food.

My Last French Fry

That’s my last French fry lying in the bowl,
Looking as if it were still warm. I roll
It round the china now, to sop and daub
The sauce across its surface and absorb
Each grain of salt into its greasy folds
(For it is crinkle cut, like chips of old).
Strangers like you marvel at its glory –
Though size and shape are only half its story –
Then to myself they turn (since none puts by
This kitchen door I've opened here, but I)
And 'fore the question ever leaves their lips,
I know they wish to sample my last chip.
So not the first are you to ask me thus,
And – though the matter pains me to discuss –
I know that, with my tale, I must be brave:
T'was on the day I gained my microwave
That first I felt the need to entertain.
Downloaded films from Net Flicks and obtained
Pizzas, bread sticks, dips both spiced and mild,
With tubs of ice cream, in the freezer, piled:
The trappings of an epic movie night.
It was, in truth, a grand and awesome sight,
The coffee table heaped with nibbles. Such
Wondrous snacks, I feared I'd bought too much
But little did I know, my hungry friends
Were plotting this feast's grim and grisly end.
Upon the food my dearest guests descended,
Plates were smashed, two Pringles tins up-ended.
They razed the buffet like a locust plague,
And as their hunger grew so did my vague
Disgust. Since greed like this I'd never seen!
And, after every bowl had been licked clean,
They searched the cupboards, on the hunt for more!
(The DVDs forgotten on the floor.)
Now please don't think that I am overbearing –
I have no issue with the task of sharing –
Excepting in the circumstance of chips:
Those golden morsels grace only my lips!
This batch was with a Nando's glaze anointed
I could make more, but that's hardly the point! It
Doesn't do to take what isn't yours –
Especially when it's been expertly sauced.
Potatoes sliced and fried are my domain!
I shouted them to stop, but cried in vain!
With maws opened so wide, they masticated,
Each fleck of salted spit increased my hatred.
They chomped the chips and jawed the juliennes;
I vowed that this would never pass again!
With mayonnaise on lips, they made excuse:
That sharing is polite, but me? I choose
Never to share. Oh sir, it was unfair!
My patience, once worn thin, was now thread bare.
I stopped the party, then, and gave commands.
So, pray you leave my last chip where it stands.
Instead, I'll find you rice on which to sup,
While you question if that really is ketchup. 
 

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