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Old 11-30-2002, 04:42 PM   #55
Child of the 7th Age
Spirit of the Lonely Star
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Cami shook her head and sighed. The first day of roast Meleagris gallopavo had indeed been special. Both Cami and her friend Andreth had eaten a large plateful of the tasty fowl and begged Rimbaud to bring them more. They had stuffed themselves to bursting, and, as Rimbaud had promised, promptly fell asleep for one hour, sprawled out on the benches in the tavern.

But that delicious feast had now been several days ago. The strange thing was, although considerable time had passed, Rimbaud still seemed to have a bountiful supply of the bird. Cami would not admit this to any of her fellow guests, but, truthfully, she was getting a bit tired of the strips of white and brown fowl that Rimbaud persisted in serving to them in a variety of guises. She'd had meleagris stew, meleagris pot pie, smoked meleagris, meleagris fricassee, and even taters and mushrooms with meleagris on top.

"Excuse me, Rimbaud," she intoned. "Do you have anything else in that kitchen except for leftover poultry? Perhaps some lamb or even a sausage or two?" Cami wondered if she should take her business elsewhere to find an establishment that had a bit more variety on its menu.

"Ah," said Rimbaud, in a rapturous voice. "That is the mystery of this bird. The more you eat, the greater the stack that is left to eat the next day."

Cami shook her head in dismay. She'd been raised on a farm, and had never heard of such a thing as a platter of meat that replenished itself. This would be quite handy for some hobbits she knew who had families with nine or ten children. However, she did not have quite such a large brood to feed, and the taste of the fowl was becoming a bit boring, especially since she continued to fall asleep every time she ate it.

Rimbaud brought Cami and Andreth the lunch special, vegetable broth with chunks of meleagris gallopavo. Cami sighed, but seeing no other options in sight, raised her spoon and attacked the steaming brew, hoping that the bird would soon grow tired of replenishing itself.

Happy Thanksgiving leftovers!

[ November 30, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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