FOOD
It’s hard to imagine actual food on the Round Table at the Algonquin. Booze, yes, ashtrays, coasters, witticisms scrawled on cocktail napkins but no hamburger or trout amandine. Parker was a tiny thing and one suspects she often forgot to eat. But there’s no denying the profound role food plays in many writers’ imaginations. Here is our offering. Bon appétit.
Put Down the Peanut Butter!
Word Count 1367
I was wearing a blue bikini with flowers on it. The sun was high in a clear sky. The lake was shimmering. Viviane and I were chasing each other and playing with a bouncy and squishy red ball. We were shouting, screaming, and laughing all at the same time. We were eight. The grownups were at a picnic table nearby, smoking, eating, drinking Fanta, and being boisterous.
This was in Canada, where the air was crisp even in summer. The grass was prickly beneath my feet. We stopped to get some water. Viviane had an older sister, Claire, pronounced Cligh. As I was gulping down water in between my giggles, Claire pointed at my belly and puffed out her cheeks. When I didn’t respond, she said, “You are fat!”