Monday, January 28, 2013

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 7

Now, I realize that most of you have no idea what is happening with our prior installments, but have no fear, I'm including the link to Part 6 so you'll be able to update yourself on the fabulous antics of my alterego, er, my character Hannistina.  What can I say?  Life at times needs some comic relief.

Ah yes, as I recall, I had just dashed the hopes of my co-writer by following the smooch with a wallop of near-coma force to our poor Dudley.  Apparently I wasn't much into the safe, lovely ending at the time.  It was way too much fun to keep on writing!  Poor co-writer of mystery, I can tell even now that you didn't know what to do with my twist.  Never fear.  I had a great depression scene in mind.  I giggled until I cried when I originally wrote this one.  Even now it's enough to almost quench the thought of my own dirty dishes right in the next room...


Chapter 3: Forgiveness 


     Hannistina walked down the street to the library with her cheeks aflame. By now, everyone in town had heard of yesterday's trip to the post office that eventually led to a trip to the hospital.  Oh how rumors spread in a small town, 
especially when fueled by a dramatic, screaming ambulance.  She hung her head with shame.  What had started out to be a semi-normal day had turned into nightmare! Even her family on the other side of the country heard of her fiasco, 
due to her father's impeccable timing!  To think, he had called to say he reconsidered and was going to offer her the money to finance her shop.  He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was immediately to call 911.   

     "When you knock a man unconscious, you must seek medical attention."  were his last words.  Obviously, talk of the shop was now out of the question.  The silence on the other end of the phone was painful as she had realized how alone she was in her predicament. 

     Her memories were sharply interrupted when she walked into the buzzing library and all heads turned in her direction.  She thought she might find at 
least one sympathetic face in the crowd, but it seemed that alliances lay with Mr. Dudley Bonmuffin.  It seems that when one flirts openly with a man and invites him into her home, it is not well received to put him into the hospital for a mere light kiss! 

     Hannistina held her head up high and put her books into the return slot. She marched to the computer and stared at the screen.  What was she here to look for?  After a moment the room recovered and she remembered that she was looking for a business book.  The room again began to quietly buzz.  In this neighborhood, not even libraries were a sanctuary from gossip.  Hannistana gathered her courage and retrieved the book.  After checking out, she made her way home.  She would finish her errands another day when some embarrassment from another unlucky citizen had replaced hers. Unfortunately, it would be months before she would go out without angry glares from Dudley's supporters.  Apparently Dudley was more popular than she gave him credit.   


     A few days had gone by.  There was no denying it now--she was depressed.  Tears rolled down Hannistina's gently sloped nose.  She raised her head to grab 
a tissue and was awed by what she saw.  All around her the evidence of her depression was all too true.  Next to her on the bed was the library book, never once opened, along with an extra large bag of Dove Promises, three King size Reese's Cups, and all seven boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her freezer. These of course had been opened and vociferously attacked in her fever to erase her shame.  She began to get a little dizzy from her sharply dropping blood sugar.  

     "I need to get some real food," she thought.  Clad in her pink poodle fuzzy pajamas, she slowly descended the stairs, only to find an even bigger mess in the kitchen.  She willed her eyes past the dishes littering every countertop, to the refrigerator.  She inspected its contents unenthusiastically--"leftover brussels sprouts...no... egg nog...definitely not...what's that?"  she inspected the tupperware container shoved near the back of the bottom shelf..."oh, wow...forgot about that".  Into the overflowing trash it went.  Her thoughts wandered to her pantry, shelf three, slightly to the left of the middle behind the conspicuously healthy whole grains, where she stored her marshmallows and baking chocolate. 

     "No, I can't.  I've got to concentrate."  

     She pulled out some provolone cheese.  There was no use trying to cook, as all her dishes were dirty. 
  
     Hannistina aimlessly ambled into the living room and sat down at her computer.  Writing in her journal had always made her feel better, but lately, she hadn't really felt like writing in it.  She didn't particularly want to chronicle this part of her life.  With a sigh, she began to look for a new cookbook to buy.  A picture of Rocco DiSpirito popped up, and she took another bite.  Why couldn't he have been the one to taste her chili and to... 

Apparently Ghiradelli wasn't the only Italian of Hannistina's dreams...


     There was a sharp rap at the door.  Hannistina shoved the last few bites of 
cheese into her mouth and rose to answer the door.  She instinctively glanced in the mirror near the door to check her hair.  Thank goodness she could always count on her pristine curls retaining their perfect shape.  She opened the door, 
peering out blandly at the uniformed man.  

     "Miss Hershey?" he asked. 

     "Yes, I am Hannistina Hershey.  Can I help you?". 

     "Got a package here for you.  Have a great day."  He all but hurled the large box into her hands.  She retreated into the quiet darkness of her house, 
inspecting the box as she walked to the couch.  How odd.  She wasn't expecting 
anything, and it wasn't sent through the mail.  She untied the ribbon and pulled 
the top off the box.  She gasped as she saw its contents, for inside was a warm, lovely meal from none other than the Bonmuffin bakery. 

    Okay, I have to admit, I went a little overboard on the elipses in this one. What's a girl to do when she's typing as fast as her giggling, crying self can crank out another chocolate allusion.  Stay tuned for more Hannistina in the near future!

1 comment:

  1. Sigh . . . . . .
    (That's all I've got for you today!)

    ReplyDelete