Vol 1, Num 1 :: 2002.09.13 — 2002.09.26
Three people, one male and two females are standing in a row behind a long folding table, each holding a crock pot or large bowl out in front of them. Lily is an average 23-year-old, slightly neurotic. Marge is a forty-something, eccentric looking lady with wild hair, clothing and jewelry. Rick is a divorcee wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans.
Lily:
My first potluck. Well, the first potluck where I'm obligated to bring something. I never realized how complicated it would be. My mom always just brings potato salad. She's famous for her potato salad. I hate potato salad. Probably the result of having to eat extra helpings all those years to make sure mom's dish disappeared. It seems to be some sort of status symbol to leave with no leftovers.
Rick:
My wife always used to take care of this. She took care of all the cooking. The only thing I could do was grill and I wasn't even very good at that. She didn't trust me with anything more expensive than hot dogs. So I opted for canned food. Hope it's not too obvious. And I hope everyone likes Spaghettios.
Lily:
Here's my dilemma. I hate potato salad, I hate baked beans, I hate jello. I hate all of the potluck staples. So the question is, do I ignore my own dislikes in order to sport the coveted empty dish when the feeding's done or do I go out on a limb and risk crock pot leftovers for the next week? It's almost a question of principles, of self-esteem, am I proud of who I am or do I need to pretend to be normal?
Marge:
I always bring the same thing to potlucks, my tried and true surefire hit. Lime jello with shrimp and cottage cheese. People turn their noses up at first, but I pretend it's not mine and rave about it to everyone. There's never any left. Sure, it's a little bit strange, but I'm a little bit strange and I think that no matter how hard we try, we can't hide behind our sauerkraut and sausage. Even the safe choices, maybe especially the safe choices, they say something about us.
Lily:
I feel so vulnerable. What if I'm forever relegated to the category with the lady who brings the lime jello with shrimp in it? Or what if I'm simply pegged as a bad cook? I feel pressure to hide all of my kitchen inadequacies.
Marge:
The beauty of a potluck is that the selection of food is as diverse as the selection of people. We depend on those who bring mostaccoli as much as we depend on those who bring a box of Ding Dongs. And we get the best variety when no one is afraid to be themselves.
Lily:
I can't stand the pressure any more. I just have to be brave. Maybe I can get it on the table while no one is looking.
Rick:
I just thought of something, are you supposed to cook Spaghettios before you serve them? Uh, maybe I can set this down when no one is looking.
Marge:
Well, I better get this on the table while no one is looking.
The three dash for the table at the same time and practically run into each other. They stand there for a second, discreetly eyeing one another's dishes.
Marge:
(to Lily) What ya got in the dish there, dear?
Lily:
(cautiously) Just black beans and rice.
Marge:
Hmmm?cautious, but not boring. How about you, young man?
Rick:
Pasta rings with tomato and cheese sauce.
Marge:
Single dad? The kids'll be thrilled to see something they recognize.
Lily:
How about you? What did you bring?
Marge:
Oh, this isn't mine. It belongs to that lady over there, but let me tell you, she is a culinary genius! It's lime jello with shrimp and cottage cheese, oh, now don't make that face?
Sound and lights fade.
your comments
comments powered by Disqus