Crunchy
Crunchy
“I’m hungry” she announced.
He looked at her, wearily. What was this now? A new trial? Ever since they had gotten married she had been testing him in different ways and at the most surprising of times.
“There must be something in the fridge?” he asked slowly.
Was this the right thing to say? He could never understand.
“There’s nothing in the fridge that I would like to eat.”
He thought she sounded rather snobbish and her tone gave him no clue as to whether she was in high spirits or was irritated.
“Then what would you like to eat, dear?”
“Something…” she contemplated “Something… crunchy”
‘Crunchy?!’ something inside him exclaimed.
This was definitely one of her crazy tests.
“Err… like bread? You want me to make you a sandwich? I – “
“Not crunchy enough.” She said quickly, cutting him off.
‘Do something!’ his mind screamed ‘Or else she’ll fry you inside out like a dead prawn’
“Oh okay. Do you want me to buy you a packet of crisps then?”
She stared at him as if he was the dumbest person on earth. Oh how he detested that look. That look of pity and that unmistakable gloat that seemed to say, ‘You’re lucky that you have me even though I deserve better.’
“You can’t be serious” she whined “those things will make me horribly fat. Besides you can’t expect me to satisfy my hunger with it.”
He liked to imagine her being fat. It made him chuckle. He knew he was being mean but he couldn’t help it. She fed these thoughts like fuel feeds a fire. It seemed like everything nowadays was on a mission to make her fat. She just wouldn’t stop going on about it.
“Yes… right. So what would you like to eat?”
“I told you. Something crunchy.”
His hand was itching to strangle her but he held it back.
“Okay, how about we go out to dinner”
No reply. Now this might seem disheartening to some but to him it was a kind of silent victory. It meant she wasn’t displeased.
He took her to the finest restaurant around. However, any hope of approval was in vain.
“What would you like, sir?” The maître d ‘ asked.
He waited for her to speak up but she kept looking at him for an answer.
Damn.
Giving a quick glance at the menu he faced the waiter. “Erm…”
He spun around to look towards her but all he could see was bright red lipstick lifting at its corners slightly and the slender raise of an eyebrow.
Little by little, he turned to face the waiter again “Do you have anything – how do you say it – crunchy?”
“Crunchy, sir?” the maître d ‘ seemed perplexed.
She laughed a little laugh. “Oh ignore my husband” she cooed “Why don’t you bring us a chicken burger with fries and coke.”
Damn. Damn her
He knew she was enjoying his discomfort deep within. Making him seem like a fool while she put on that innocent façade – that evil smile, that sugary tone.
“Why couldn’t you have ordered earlier when I was waiting for you to say something?”
“How was I to know you’d make us both look stupid?” she answered.
He cringed inwardly.
When the food arrived he sighed with relief. Maybe she’ll leave him alone now. Maybe she’ll stop throwing him unnerving complications everyday.
One bite. Two bites.
“Mmm. Yes. Now this is crunchy. Just the way I like it” she said
“Not one mention of thanks” he thought bitterly
“I wonder what they put inside. Maybe you can make one for me some day… just like this one?”
Sure.
Saying this she opened up her burger to study its contents…
And let out a piercing scream.
Every pair of eyes in the room turned to gape at her. She stood up aghast; her own eyes wide open in fright… maybe shock.
As the burger fell from her hands, he glimpsed a dark, small, roundish thing nestled between the pieces of tomato and radishes.
It was only when the burger hit the ground and that thing scurried away safely to a shadowy corner of the room did he realize what it actually was.
Suddenly the whole place was a chaos. People started talking in hushed tones. Children sneaked forward to take a look at the forbidden burger. A few people pushed away their plates clearly disturbed by the whole scenario. The poor maître d ‘ kept babbling apologies one after another. A few sympathetic ladies got up to console the unlucky victim who stood there, looking – probably for the first time – miserable and pathetic.
Only he was smiling.
Finally. Redemption.
He looked at her, wearily. What was this now? A new trial? Ever since they had gotten married she had been testing him in different ways and at the most surprising of times.
“There must be something in the fridge?” he asked slowly.
Was this the right thing to say? He could never understand.
“There’s nothing in the fridge that I would like to eat.”
He thought she sounded rather snobbish and her tone gave him no clue as to whether she was in high spirits or was irritated.
“Then what would you like to eat, dear?”
“Something…” she contemplated “Something… crunchy”
‘Crunchy?!’ something inside him exclaimed.
This was definitely one of her crazy tests.
“Err… like bread? You want me to make you a sandwich? I – “
“Not crunchy enough.” She said quickly, cutting him off.
‘Do something!’ his mind screamed ‘Or else she’ll fry you inside out like a dead prawn’
“Oh okay. Do you want me to buy you a packet of crisps then?”
She stared at him as if he was the dumbest person on earth. Oh how he detested that look. That look of pity and that unmistakable gloat that seemed to say, ‘You’re lucky that you have me even though I deserve better.’
“You can’t be serious” she whined “those things will make me horribly fat. Besides you can’t expect me to satisfy my hunger with it.”
He liked to imagine her being fat. It made him chuckle. He knew he was being mean but he couldn’t help it. She fed these thoughts like fuel feeds a fire. It seemed like everything nowadays was on a mission to make her fat. She just wouldn’t stop going on about it.
“Yes… right. So what would you like to eat?”
“I told you. Something crunchy.”
His hand was itching to strangle her but he held it back.
“Okay, how about we go out to dinner”
No reply. Now this might seem disheartening to some but to him it was a kind of silent victory. It meant she wasn’t displeased.
He took her to the finest restaurant around. However, any hope of approval was in vain.
“What would you like, sir?” The maître d ‘ asked.
He waited for her to speak up but she kept looking at him for an answer.
Damn.
Giving a quick glance at the menu he faced the waiter. “Erm…”
He spun around to look towards her but all he could see was bright red lipstick lifting at its corners slightly and the slender raise of an eyebrow.
Little by little, he turned to face the waiter again “Do you have anything – how do you say it – crunchy?”
“Crunchy, sir?” the maître d ‘ seemed perplexed.
She laughed a little laugh. “Oh ignore my husband” she cooed “Why don’t you bring us a chicken burger with fries and coke.”
Damn. Damn her
He knew she was enjoying his discomfort deep within. Making him seem like a fool while she put on that innocent façade – that evil smile, that sugary tone.
“Why couldn’t you have ordered earlier when I was waiting for you to say something?”
“How was I to know you’d make us both look stupid?” she answered.
He cringed inwardly.
When the food arrived he sighed with relief. Maybe she’ll leave him alone now. Maybe she’ll stop throwing him unnerving complications everyday.
One bite. Two bites.
“Mmm. Yes. Now this is crunchy. Just the way I like it” she said
“Not one mention of thanks” he thought bitterly
“I wonder what they put inside. Maybe you can make one for me some day… just like this one?”
Sure.
Saying this she opened up her burger to study its contents…
And let out a piercing scream.
Every pair of eyes in the room turned to gape at her. She stood up aghast; her own eyes wide open in fright… maybe shock.
As the burger fell from her hands, he glimpsed a dark, small, roundish thing nestled between the pieces of tomato and radishes.
It was only when the burger hit the ground and that thing scurried away safely to a shadowy corner of the room did he realize what it actually was.
Suddenly the whole place was a chaos. People started talking in hushed tones. Children sneaked forward to take a look at the forbidden burger. A few people pushed away their plates clearly disturbed by the whole scenario. The poor maître d ‘ kept babbling apologies one after another. A few sympathetic ladies got up to console the unlucky victim who stood there, looking – probably for the first time – miserable and pathetic.
Only he was smiling.
Finally. Redemption.
♠ ♠ ♠
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