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http://www.biffprice.com Don’t Eat What You Can’t Pronounce. Copyright ©2016 by Biff Price This short story is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Resemblance to actual locales or events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Published in the United States by SevenHorns Publishing, a division of SevenHorns, LLC. The SevenHorns name and logo are trademarks of SevenHorns, LLC. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. Designed by Branded Human. www.brandedhuman.com
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Don’t Eat What You Can’t Pronounce Copyright © 2016 – Biff Price Sandy Spalding was a very good cook. Everyone said so. When the holidays came and her extended family joined her for meals, they oooed and aaahed over her culinary creations, exclaiming in delight about the deliciousness of her turkey and ham, the magnificence of her mash potatoes, the sumptuousness of her green beans, and the Epicurean wondrousness of her pastries! Sandy’s sister Helen said that she should become a professional chef. Brother Dan thought she ought to sell her baked goods through local supermarkets. Nieces and nephews pounced upon her desserts like lions on a gazelle. Almost everyone was enthralled with her palate-pleasing concoctions – everyone with the exception of Matilda Madison, her neighbor four doors removed. Matilda envied Sandy because Sandy’s meatloaf always won first place in the annual Founder’s Picnic in July. Sandy’s pie always won the gold at the August bazaar held by the parish to raise money for St. Stephan’s. Sandy’s chocolate-chip cookies were the star of the annual Rotary picnic in September. Sandy’s cornbread was now being sold by Kline’s Bakery on Main Street. It was enough to make Matilda apoplectic! Year-after-year, no matter how hard Matilda tried, she could never beat Sandy. Never! Matilda had hundreds of cookbooks. She followed directions. She embraced the beautiful creations in magazines. She copied world-class chefs when she made her contest entries. Nothing worked. She labored. She labored even more. She traveled near and far seeking the Holy Grail – the recipe that would sweep the events and cast Sandy Spalding into the dust as an also-ran! Sandy had no idea that Matilda was filled with such rage because, strangely, Matilda pretended to be Sandy’s best friend! Outwardly, Matilda was a poster woman for friendliness. She exuded warmth and well-being. She smiled, said nice things, and she was helpful, kind and considerate. What no one knew was that Sandy had a secret ingredient that she used in almost everything she cooked, sautéed, baked, broiled or fried. She had never told anyone. Her grandmother had shared the secret with Sandy when she was 12 years old when she was visiting with her at her home. Sandy and Matilda lived in the town of Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. They had grown up together, graduated together, and Sandy had attended the local university, while Matilda had gone to Penn State. Sandy had become an elementary school teacher, and Matilda had become an accountant. Their husbands were also best friends and golfing buddies. The ties that bound them were strong, but Matilda’s jealousy was as secret as Sandy’s magic ingredient. Matilda and her husband, Mike, had one child: daughter, Melanie. She was a sophomore at the local high school. Sandy and husband Fred did not have children. The couples vacationed together, went hiking and camping, and spent many evenings at each other’s houses. No one would ever suspect Matilda’s state-of-mind regarding her friend.
The tipping point came when Sandy’s husband secretly sent a copy of Sandy’s apple pie recipe to a contest he saw in Martha Stewart’s magazine. The Diva of Domesticity was writing a new cookbook called Great American Recipes. Sandy’s recipe had won a place in the new book. When it was published there was a twopage spread in the beginning of the section on desserts, and Ms. Stewart was posed with Sandy in the photograph. The icon was smiling broadly and holding a plate containing a piece of pie. Sandy was posed holding a knife, having just cut the pie. Sandy was not paid for the recipe, but the notoriety she had received from the photo shoot ended up being covered in a full-page story in the Lock Haven Express newspaper, she was interviewed on the local radio station, and she was also named in Who’s Who in Central Pennsylvania! When Matilda opened her copy of the new Stewart cookbook and saw Sandy in its pages, she lost it! She jumped into her Ford Explorer and drove through four stop signs before she managed to regain some semblance of control. MARTHA STEWART! Was there no justice in the universe? Her head was going to explode! There would be ganglia everywhere! When they found her they would wonder how a woman’s head could go nuclear! Where could she find relief? She didn’t drink so that was out of the question. She didn’t do drugs. She didn’t know where she could go to buy drugs in Lock Haven! What could she do? This was a personality-altering moment in her life. No more Mrs. Nice Person! She thought about going to see Father Ambrose, but how did one go about confessing such envy? She hadn’t just broken the 10th Commandment. She was way beyond coveting! She had destroyed the Commandment over and over again! She could not possibly say enough Hail Mary’s in a month-of-Sundays to wash away her envy! MARTHA STEWART! Dammit! She had to do something! It felt like someone had poured acid on her brain! She wanted to scream! Reason had fled. Insanity had arrived. This could not go on! She had to do something! This was the end. They were going to remember Matilda Madison for a long, long time! Matilda realized that she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. She was so angry that she was not paying attention. She was on a country road that twisted and turned this way and that, and she had no idea where she was. She saw nothing but woods on both sides of the road. She started into a turn too fast and thought her car was going to slide off the road. She managed to slow enough to prevent disaster, and she pulled to the side of the highway. She was gasping for breath. Matilda Madison was over the edge – of the road and her mind, too! It took her five minutes to gain control of her beating heart and racing mind. When she had achieved a small degree of normalcy she pulled back on the road and drove along looking for a place to turn around. She didn’t find one. The woods remained unbroken on both sides of the road. She had lived in this area all her life. How was it that she had never been on this road before?
Then she saw an opening on her left and she turned into it. It was a dirt road leading back into the forest. There was no mailbox or sign along the road, but she thought it might lead to a house anyway, so she decided to try it. She had driven at least half a mile and was becoming desperate. The trees were close together and there was no place to turn around. The dirt road had turned and twisted so much that backing up for a half mile would take forever! She drove a little further and was relieved to see a clearing ahead. When she reached it she saw a house in the middle of the open area. It was not like any house she had ever seen before. It looked like a Walt Disney idea of a cottage. In fact, it was exactly like that – a movie cottage. She would not have been surprised if one of the Seven Dwarves stepped through the front door to greet her. There was enough space for Sandy to turn the Explorer around, and she did so. She sat thinking for a moment. She decided to get out of her car and knock on the door. She left the motor running. As she approached the cottage she thought she saw someone looking at her from behind a curtain in the window to the right of the door, but whoever it might have been disappeared so quickly that she thought she had imagined it! Whoever had built this place had been filled with whimsy on steroids! It was so over-thetop that she had a vision of Alice falling down the hole into another world. It was then she noticed the sign above the door. It was bright blue, and painted in delightfully cartoonish letters in white ink were the words “Potions for All Needs!” There was a small bell hanging from the sign on a golden cord at shoulder height. Matilda reached out and tugged on the string. What happened next was so unexpected that she found herself jumping into her vehicle ready to race down the dirt road. The little bell should have tinkled. Instead, when she pulled the cord a horn that sounded exactly like an approaching train that was right on top of her blew deafeningly, and the woods around the house erupted in hysterical laughter! This was madness! Matilda was in no mood for nonsense. She had to focus! She was going to give a piece of her mind to whoever lived in this silly place about scaring her! She jumped out of her car and walked up to the front door and rapped as hard as she could. No one responded. She rapped even harder. There was still no response. She was ready to turn and leave when she saw words appear on one of the panes of glass in the door as if by magic. She read, “Try the bell again!” Matilda screwed up her courage and tugged on the golden cord. This time, the little bell sounded like a little bell and the front door opened by itself. Someone had a demented idea about having fun with people! She stepped into the cottage and was greeted with the sight of what one would expect. The inside of the cottage continued the whimsical theme. It was crammed with shelves that looked like what one would see in a Disney film.
There were antique glass jars carefully arranged on the shelves, and each was sealed. She could not make out what was in them, but there were labels on each jar. One read, Curmudgeon Juice. The one to its left said, Chortle Cure. To its left, the legend read, Chin Lengthener. What nonsense was this? She looked around. She was certain that if she looked harder she would find Eye of Newt and Tongue of Toad! No one had yet greeted her. She walked through the room reading the labels on jars. There were hundreds of them, all arranged in alphabetical order. She saw a counter at the rear of the store and she approached it. As she did, a woman suddenly appeared from a doorway and Matilda was so startled she let out a little “Yip!” of fright. In a voice that sounded like a Disney cartoon idea of a witch, the woman said, “What’s the matter, dearie…did I scare you? Heh, heh, heh!” The woman laughed and sounded like she was enjoying herself immensely. To add to the surreal scene, the woman was dressed like a witch – all in black. She even wore a pointed hat and held a broom in her hand. The broom was not a modern creation, but an object that looked like an artist’s drawing of a broom in a cartoon. She had white hair and a pleasant face, with red apple cheeks and a friendly smile. At least she didn’t look evil. Matilda vacillated between anger and amusement. “What is this place?” she asked. “Didn’t you read the sign our front, dearie?” the woman said. “Yes, and your doorbell nearly gave me a heart attack!” The old woman started cackling so hard that her face grew redder and redder. Finally, she managed to get some control of herself. “Yes…yes…isn’t it a hoot, dearie?” Then, she was off and cackling again. Matilda couldn’t help herself. She started laughing, too. The madness was bubbling just beneath her surface. She laughed as hard as the…the witch…and finally they both stopped. The old woman said, “How can I help you. Matilda?” “You know my name? How is that possible? I’ve never seen you before in my life! I would have certainly remembered you!” Matilda said. The witch said, “It’s my business to know things. Look around you. What do you see?” Matilda said, “It looks like something out of a Fairy Tale.” “Precisely, dearie. I specialize in very special things. Now, I believe you are looking for something in the cooking area, are you not?” Matilda stared in wonder at the woman. “How could you possibly know what I want?” “I know your name, and I know what you want – a very special ingredient, indeed. I have it right here.” The woman pointed to a small package wrapped in plain brown paper on the counter.
“What is it?” Matilda asked. “You mix it with a recipe. It is especially wonderful in baked goods. The result is…may I say…catastrophic! It’s stupendous! It’s beyond belief!” Matilda smiled. A plan had formed in her mind. “I’ll take it! How much do you want for it?” “That would depend on how badly you need it, dearie!” the old woman said. Now she was smiling with a smug look on her face. Matilda was flustered…and angry! She exclaimed, “I NEED IT! NOW! I’ll pay anything. Do you understand Old Woman! I have to have it…NOW! The old woman said, “Take it. Consider it a gift. I don’t want money. The result…will be enough payment.” Matilda swooped up the package, turned on her heel, and went through the front door. She jumped into the Explorer, which was still running, and drove off. The sound of cackling was heard in the whimsical cottage.
Chapter 2 St. Stephan’s Bazaar and Festival was approaching. There was a lot of planning to do. Matilda set to work. Her cornbread muffins were the only thing that she had ever entered in any contest that had finished in the running against Sandy. She had garnered a Third Place the year before. Matilda went through all her cookbooks examining any other possibilities, but the witch had said the special ingredient was best in baked goods. She thought about breads, pastries, pies, croissants, etc. She kept coming back to her first choice: cornbread muffins. They were very good. Her husband, Mike, thought so. Her daughter, Melanie, could not get enough of them. Even the Divine Sandy liked them, and Fred, Sandy’s husband, had declared them his favorite when they had dinner at the Madison house! It would be her cornbread muffins. The night before the Festival she carefully prepared her muffins for baking. When she had her mixture ready she opened the package the witch had given her and added the contents. She mixed everything thoroughly, put the muffins in her tins, and put them in the oven. The odor filled the house and her husband and daughter came into the kitchen, eager for a sample. “I’m sorry…” Matilda said, “…but I need all of them for the Festival this year.” Mike and Melanie looked mournful.
“I promise that I will make another batch just for you after the Festival is over.” St. Stephan’s Festival was held on a super day. The weather was perfect, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the whole town was there. The tasting and judging would be held at noon, and the winner and runners-up would be announced at 2:00 p.m. Craft and food booths were doing brisk business, a local rock band was playing at one side of the Festival grounds, a country group at the other side, and the local radio station was broadcasting from the event. People from out of town were coming to enjoy the day. The people who had entered the baked goods competition all shared long tables that had been set up under a tent. They would not be available to the public until after the judging. At noon the judges came into the tent and began tasting and judging. There were sixteen entries, the largest field of competitors in recent memory. Cakes, pies, croissants, donuts, and assorted cookies were all tastefully displayed. The reigning Queen of Cooking, Sandy Spalding, would have her apple pie judged last. Everyone knew that Sandy would probably win, but no one was kept from entering. After all, the Festival raised money for a very good cause, and everyone was there to have fun – except for Matilda Madison! The judges this year numbered five people. Three of the five had to agree that one of the entries was better than all the others. Deputy Mayor Frank Blake, Postmaster Helen Crawford, School Superintendent Albert Holloway, police sergeant Stan Fredericks and Sharon Seevers, the Queen of the Festival, had been appointed judges for the event this year. Each judge had a printed form with the names of each entrant and a grading scale of 1-to5, five being the best. They made their way slowly from entry to entry. There were a lot of, “Wow, that’s good! “This is delicious!” “Oh my, I need to take some home!” and other warm statements from the judges as they made their way through the tent. Matilda was standing by her entry in nervous anticipation near the rear of the tent, and her muffins would be fifth from the end to be judged. When the judges arrived at her station, Deputy Mayor Frank Blake declared, “Matilda, I was hoping you would bring these this year!” Because of the amount of food they needed to taste, small samples were provided to each judge. One of Matilda’s muffins had been cut into five pieces and carefully placed on a lovely plate. Each judge took a piece, each placed his or her piece in his or her mouth, and they ate their samples together. In the next moment, there was a look of distaste on each face. Helen Crawford started to gag, Albert Holloway’s face turned bright red, the Festival Queen spit out her sample on the ground, followed by Sergeant Fredericks, and Deputy Mayor Frank Blake loudly exclaimed, “My God…Matilda…are you trying to poison us?” The judges left the tent in search or water. Everyone was looking at Matilda, and Matilda was staring in horror at her muffins. What the hell had the witch given her? She was embarrassed
beyond words. She ran from the tent in shame and hid in a Porto Potty. Her husband, Mike, tried to reason with her, but she would not come out and face anyone. The judges returned, a bit discomfited, but determined to finish their duty. They tasted the rest of the entries, did their scoring, and left the tent. Mike Madison went to the baking tent, swept Matilda’s muffins into a garbage bag, and left the scene. Sandy Spalding, was, as usual, judged the winner, and when that moment came and the winners were being announced from the bandstand by one of the radio deejays, Matilda was lurking behind the bandstand looking at the crowd. She saw a familiar face. However, the old woman was not dressed as a witch this time. She was in the first row of the crowd smiling when the winners were announced. Matilda followed her when she moved away from the bandstand. She tapped her on the shoulder and the woman turned around. When she saw who it was, she smiled brightly. Matilda, filled with hatred, spat out her words. “What the hell did you give me?” Instead of answering her, the old woman said, “Tell me, Matilda…how old are you?” “WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH WHAT YOU GAVE ME?” “Everything. How old are you?” “I’M 43…WHAT…?” “…and you still believe in witches? That’s delightful!” The old woman laughed at her. Matilda was so stunned by this she couldn’t articulate her words clearly. People were gathering around them staring and pointing. “UHHH.,.UHHH…UHHH…” Matilda grunted, her face contorting. Finally, she managed to yell, “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” “I’m Sandy’s grandmother, dearie…” the old woman said, adopting the voice of the witch. The veins were sticking out of Matilda’s throat at this moment. “WHAT DID YOU GIVE ME TO PUT IN MY MUFFINS?” The old woman smiled and said, “The scientific names are phenylthiocaramide (PTC) and 6-n-propylthiouraicil (PROP). You see, dearie, I am a retired chemical engineer! The best witch in the business couldn’t get close to all the things I know.” “UHHH…UHHH…UHHH…UHHH. I CAN’T PRONOUNCE WHAT YOU SAID! WHAT DID IT DO…” “It makes everything very bitter!” the old woman said, smiling sweetly.
Matilda said, “WHAT THE HELL IS HER SECRET INGREDIENT? TELL ME! SHE MUST HAVE ONE, DAMMIT! WHAT IS IT?” “It is an emulsion of natural ingredients, dearie.” “WHAT IS THAT? “It’s called butter, dearie.” Matilda could not get her mind to work. She was stupefied. Finally, she screamed, “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?” The look on the old woman’s face had changed. There was no sweet smile and no warmth in her voice when she leaned in and whispered, “Because, Matilda, dear, the women in our family don’t lose. We never lose at anything! I guarantee it!” With these words the old woman turned and began walking away. Onlookers heard the blood-curdling scream and watched in horror as Matilda lunged forward. Before she could sink the cake knife into the old woman’s back Matilda was tackled and brought down by police sergeant Stan Fredericks. However, Fredericks, at 6’4” and 230 lbs. of muscle, had not bargained for what happened next. In her rage, Matilda Madison, at just 5’3’ and 130 lbs., threw off the officer like he was a mere child, and lunged again for the woman. She had nearly reached her when five men from the crowd brought her down a second time. It was all they could do to hold her until the sergeant was able to cuff Matilda and lead her away. Sandy Spalding, who had heard the commotion, stood watching with a smile on her face. It was wonderful to win…again. Matilda Madison was kept heavily sedated in solitary confinement for five months before she was deemed safe enough to mix with others in the general populations at Piersall Psychiatric Hospital near Harrisburg. No one on the staff could get her to eat desserts of any kind. One day, when they served cornbread muffins, she went berserk, stuck a butter knife in a guard’s arm, and had to be restrained again for six months. The Madison family left town. Sandy Spalding got her own cooking show on TV. Life was very good!