Tag Archives: orange

3510. Orange juice

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I am convinced my wife is trying to poison me. We have been married for forty-seven years and she always prepares breakfast. Don’t panic, I usually prepare the evening meal. Now that we are retired we stick to the old habits of a life time.

For breakfast I always have two scrambled eggs on a slice of toast, with a glass of orange juice, unless  we go out for breakfast which we sometimes do. The dining table is not in the kitchen. You have to go through the kitchen door to get to it.

I thought I saw my wife surreptitiously putting powder in my orange juice. I heard the stirring with a teaspoon in a glass vessel going tinkle tinkle tinkle. She then placed the glass of orange juice on the dining table. Well, of course I wasn’t going to say anything, and I wasn’t going to drink it. When she went to the bathroom I quickly took a puff of nitrolingual spray (heart you know), dashed out to the kitchen, and tipped the drink down the sink. I can’t be doing that all the time.

The next morning I heard the tinkle tinkle tinkle of the glass being stirred and I left it unsipped on the table. She said, “You haven’t touched your orange juice. You need Vitamin C to prevent winter ills.” So when she went out to the kitchen I tipped half the glass into the potted plant on the sideboard next to the table. The potted plant is an amaryllis. I didn’t want to tip the lot out at once because it would look suspicious. Then when the opportunity presented itself I poured the rest of it down the kitchen sink.

This has gone on for several weeks now, and I have been tipping the entire glass each morning into the pot of the large amaryllis that’s flowering on the sideboard. In fact my wife said that she thought the amaryllis was flowering spectacularly this year! I can’t keep tipping a glass of orange juice into the amaryllis like this forever. The stress is wearing me out. I have to empty the amaryllis saucer of orange juice when my wife goes out of the house.

Her birthday is coming up. I’m thinking of getting her a second amaryllis. She loves them. Maybe a couple.

2147. Colour my world

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It annoyed Janet immensely that a banana was the same colour as a lemon; and an orange was the same colour as a pumpkin; and a plum was the same colour as a red onion; and an apple was the same colour as a cabbage; and so on…

“How is one expected to tell the difference?” she exclaimed. “It must be very confusing. Thank goodness I’m blind.”

2075. Virginia’s chocolates

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Virginia thought she would learn to make chocolates. Not chocolate, but chocolates – those things with something scrumptious like a nut or some fruit jelly encased inside. She had once read about it in a magazine but unfortunately she neither had the magazine nor too much of a memory as to what the magazine said.

But these days there was the internet. Everything could be found on the internet including the making of chocolates. She would find an easy method and follow it to a tee. It was like magic how the centre got into the chocolates, especially if the centre was runny. A nut could simply be dipped into melted chocolate, but runny stuff was another thing altogether. Virginia thought she would begin with a strawberry flavoured centre.

Part of the problem was that Virginia, in the main, was a terrible procrastinator. She would put things off, and put things off. This was not to be the case with her chocolate-making. She would aim to have little baskets of chocolates to give out this coming Easter. She couldn’t mess around. It was almost inevitable that the first chocolates she made would be a disaster, but perhaps by the second attempt she might produce something good enough to serve as an Easter gift.

Virginia went shopping with the list of things required. When it came to flavouring, she wondered, looking at all the options available in the supermarket aisle, whether she should make a variety of flavours and not just strawberry. There was strawberry, and raspberry, and apricot, and lemon, and orange, and… the choices went on and on. In the end, Virginia settled for strawberry and orange. Then there was the mould. She hadn’t realized there were so many shapes available. She chose moulds that were in the shape of vegetables: carrots and pumpkins and zucchinis and so on.

When she got home Virginia wonder if the vegetable shapes were appropriate for Easter. She should have got bunnies and cockerels and eggs. Not to worry – she would make do with what she had.

Anyway, that was last Easter. With Thanksgiving approaching Virginia still hadn’t made any chocolates, but the vegetable moulds would be more than suitable for Thanksgiving. Yes! She would make little baskets of chocolates to give out this coming Thanksgiving. Or perhaps Christmas. Christmas would be better. It was more of a chocolatey occasion than Thanksgiving.

1231. Don’t you dare

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Dale was demonstrating to his children how to best peel an orange using a knife when he accidentally cut off his finger. They phoned for an ambulance and it set out immediately only to crash into a cyclist at an intersection. The cyclist was killed. At the cyclist’s funeral, or more particularly at the cup of tea afterwards, old Mrs Clifton choked on a cucumber sandwich and was beyond revival by the time anyone performed the Heimlich manoeuvre. At Mrs Clifton’s funeral, Jack met Rachel and they fell in love and got married and Rachel was expecting but it was an ectopic pregnancy and they lost the baby, but later they had another baby who grew up to be a tyrannical man who beat up his wife and children, and one of the children was a malfunctioning individual and murdered three people, all of whom were destined to become great artists of one sort or another, but their careers were through before they had even started. The painting that one of them was destined to paint, and never did, would have been lost in an attic for decades only to be found by a destitute widow who was trying to feed her eleven children. She could’ve sold it for millions. One of her eleven children was the great-great grandchild of Dale, who was now home from hospital minus the missing finger, and was about to demonstrate to his children once again how to best peel an orange using a knife when his wife declared vehemently DON’T YOU DARE! DON’T YOU DARE!