All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Yummiest Soup
I wish my mother never asked me. It was night time. A hot and breezy summer night. The sun had just set and sprinkles of heaven were beginning to fall. School had just ended and I was off with my daily exercise. I had just finished my tenth lap around the block when the dark has closed in. Tiredness filled my head like an active volcano has just erupted and flooded the cities with hot and steaming lava. Apparently mother didn?t notice my dizziness, so like always, she assigned me to cook some food for father before he came home. Mother was in a big hurry racing here and there rapidly.
?Who me?? I asked with a confusing look on my face, hurrying to catch up. It really surprised me how fast mother ran for her age. But?like always, mother ignored me and slammed the door with a loud boom.
I?ve always loved to cook. Everyday I would bother my mother into letting me cook. But the only thing I knew how to cook was cookies, eggs, French fries, and maybe mashed potatoes. And that?s all mother usually asked me to cook. But this time was different. She had already put water in the pot boiling, and the ingredients on the counter. That?s when I knew I had to make soup.
How hard can cooking be? I thought to myself, holding onto the refrigerator door for my dear life. I had to hold on for a while to stabilize myself. Later on, the dizziness wore out and I was ready to cook. I started with the onions, which was a bad idea because my eyes blazed with tears and I couldn?t see where I was cutting.
After cutting vegetables for what seemed like hours, I was ready to add some meat. I never really noticed what meat mother uses, or even if she puts meat, but I just wanted to get this over with. So I took out the raw salmon fish we had in the freezer for months, maybe years. I tried fitting it in the pot but it didn?t fit so I cut it in half and squished it in.
Then I remembered once when mother told me that pepper gave lots of taste. So I opened the jar that was the size of my foot, and kept pouring the pepper in till the jar was empty.
There?s one thing I forgot to add?I thought to myself. What can it be??
In a blink of an eye, there was a bulb above my head gleaming as luminous as the sun.
?Eggs?? I said, nodding with a wide smile that had spread across my face. I skipped over to the refrigerator. I opened it so fast that the ketchup fell down and cracked open leaving me dumped in red.
After I changed, I got out the eggs. I cracked them all open and dumped them in the pot. I wasn?t really thinking so I added the shells in with the egg.
?All finished,? I smiled to myself, mixing the soup with a ladle.
?What you do is finished?? father said in a low and husky accent, which I lunged in reply. He came over and peered down at the soup. ?Good it looks,? he said opening the drawer to get a silverware.
?Hope you like it!? I said leaving the kitchen and entering my room. By this time I was extraordinary exhausted. I collapsed on the bed and fast asleep.
Those who know me probably know that I?m a heavy sleeper. Not even a near by train would wake me up. But there is one thing that did wake me up, and that was the sound of father screeching as if he has just eaten the most disgusting thing in the world. And it happened he just did!
I got up and quickly ran to the kitchen. There, I saw father choking on the egg shells. Down in his bowl was over flooding barf that was dripping off the table onto the floor. I knew I would be cleaning up this mess for my punishment. But I also knew that cleaning wouldn?t be enough.
?Feli,? father said with a straight voice, trying to look mad. Although I knew he wasn?t mad, because I got on my knees and looked into his shiny eye with my puppy eyes. Thanks to mother?s arrival, father didn?t yell at me. Instead he looked distractedly at mother and asked her to leave so we can have a moment alone.
Oh no, I thought, getting up and backing away from father to lean on mother. I grabbed her hand and held on tight. Mother had no mercy over me. She let go and left the room with a secret smile on her face.
?Feli,? father said again. This time he straightened his back and tried to sound professional. But to me, it sounded mournful. I leaned forward to take a good look at him. But he just sat there with his hand at his forehead trying to cover his face.
?What?s wrong?? I asked.
?What?s wrong? Look at this thing!? he said pointing towards the pot. ?That?s the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted, and seen, and even smelled!?
Then he started again. ?Promise me you?ll never cook that thing ever again.? He said with a sickened look. ?Promise me you?ll never cook in this kitchen.?
?I promise,? I said with my head down to hide my tears that were sliding down my cheeks. I was crying because I knew I couldn?t keep my promise.
Ever since then, mother never asked me to cook ever again. But I still did when both, mother and father were gone.