We had dinner at one of our regular hangouts. Unfortunately, they serve REALLY good bread, which (during our time of restraint, in an effort to lose weight) we try REALLY hard to avoid. We do this by saying "no" when the server asks if we would like some.
On this particular evening, we were not asked, and a basket of bread appeared before us. One quick, shared glance, and my fiance' pushed it away.
About five minutes later, another basket appeared, with barely a sight of the culprit.
My fiance' pushed it aside, where it hung out with the others. Our meals finally came, and we had successfully avoided both baskets of bread.
After our plates were cleared, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something. My fiance' noticed it, too. It was being carried upon a tray, as if under a spotlight,
and the music seemed to change, as it glided across the room. We wondered which lucky soul it would land upon, when . . .
"It's on the house," said our server, as he placed it in front of us, slow motion style.
Two white and beautiful, perfectly round scoops of vanilla ice-cream,
melting into one warm,
perfectly molded,
soft and gooey serving of . . .
I wanted to yell, "TAKE IT BACK! YOU'VE MADE A MISTAKE! TAKE IT BACK!" But, the tempation was more than we could bear. Instead, we picked up our spoons, and with a shared look of surrender and approval . . .
"We're going in."
On this particular evening, we were not asked, and a basket of bread appeared before us. One quick, shared glance, and my fiance' pushed it away.
"We'll pretend it's not there," we said, in hushed voices.
About five minutes later, another basket appeared, with barely a sight of the culprit.
Is this a joke?
My fiance' pushed it aside, where it hung out with the others. Our meals finally came, and we had successfully avoided both baskets of bread.
Phew!
After our plates were cleared, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something. My fiance' noticed it, too. It was being carried upon a tray, as if under a spotlight,
and the music seemed to change, as it glided across the room. We wondered which lucky soul it would land upon, when . . .
"It's on the house," said our server, as he placed it in front of us, slow motion style.
Two white and beautiful, perfectly round scoops of vanilla ice-cream,
melting into one warm,
perfectly molded,
soft and gooey serving of . . .
BREAD PUDDING.
I wanted to yell, "TAKE IT BACK! YOU'VE MADE A MISTAKE! TAKE IT BACK!" But, the tempation was more than we could bear. Instead, we picked up our spoons, and with a shared look of surrender and approval . . .
"We're going in."
