Potluck
Posted by twayn on Tuesday, July 29th, 2008 at 2:11 am
“So, what’s going on?” Mike Lamb asked Nick Punto as teammate after teammate arrived in the Twins clubhouse with a covered dish Monday afternoon.
“Didn’t you get the memo?” asked Punto. “It’s our annual potluck dinner. Gardy figured since we have this big series with the White Sox, we could use all the luck we can get, and like Gardy always says, there’s no better luck than a potluck.”
“Seriously?” asked Lamb.
“Oh, yeah,” said Joe Nathan. “Heck, after we had our potluck last year the Pohlads thought we should do it for every home game. Save a few bucks on the clubhouse spread, you know. But then a few of the guys got sick after eating Torii’s Tuna Noodle Hot Dish Surprise and everyone decided just once a year was probably enough.”
“Tuna Noodle Hot Dish Surprise?” asked Lamb.
“Yeah,” said Joe Mauer. “The surprise was that he forgot to put it in the refrigerator overnight so the cream of mushroom soup got a little gamy. Most of us wouldn’t touch the stuff, but Ponson and Silva had, like, six helpings.”
“Man, I wish I’d have known,” said Lamb, looking up and down the buffet table. “See, now I feel like I’m not contributing anything.”
“Gee, I wonder why you’d feel that way?” asked Justin Morneau without the slightest hint of irony as he removed a large covered platter from its quilted warming cozy. “If you didn’t get the memo you didn’t get the memo.”
“So what you got there, Justin?” asked Delmon Young as he tucked a napkin under his chin.
“Back bacon and beans smothered in maple syrup,” said Justin. “With a little moose meat pemmican mixed in for flavor. And bear claws and beaver tails for dessert.”
"Bear claws and beaver tails?" said Delmon. "Man, I love pastries!"
"Yeah, we know," replied Justin, eyeing the outfielder's waistline. "And who said anything about pastries?"
“Hey Gardy!” yelled Craig Monroe. “What did you bring?”
“That big tray of beef jerky,” the frosty haired manager called back.
“Beef jerky?” squealed Nick Punto. “You were supposed to make, like, a real dish.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Gardy. “But Carol was busy and that’s about the only food they sell at the hardware store. It was either that or Slim Jims.”
The players lined up and slowly worked their way down the buffet table, filling their plates with gusto until they reached the end. One by one they gathered around the last dish on the table, looking up and down and back and forth in puzzled disbelief.
“Madre mio,” said Carlos Gomez and Alexi Casilla together. “Que es esso?
“Yeah, man, what the hell is that?” asked Brendan Harris. “Is it some sort of Cornish game hens or mutant Butterball turkey or something?”
“Well, it does appear to be poultry related,” said Mike Redmond, scratching his head. “Yeah, definitely avian in nature. Maybe we should get Souhan in here, he’d probably know.”
“Who brought this, and just what the hell is it?” piped up Brian Buscher. But nobody answered.
“It smells kind of good,” said Morneau. “Sort of like… I don’t know. Like that smell when you're a kid getting out of bed on Christmas morning, or the way the lake smells right before you hook a big walleye. And a little bit like... curry, maybe? But it sure looks weird.”
“Man, it looks weird because whoever made it didn't even bother to pluck it first!” said Nathan.
Finally, after a moment of quiet deliberation, Kevin Slowey spoke up. “I brought it, guys,” he said.
“Well, what is it then?” asked several of the players at once.
“It’s Hope,” said Slowey.
“Hope?” asked Denard Span.
“Hope?” asked Brendan Harris.
“Yeah,” said Slowey. “It’s Hope. You know, the thing with feathers.”
There was a momentary quiet as the players pondered this revelation by the young pitcher. Finally Denard Span broke the silence.
“Well, all right, my man,” he said, holding out his plate and nodding toward the large Tupperware bowl. “Pile that stuff on, then. Shoot, who knows? Maybe if I have enough I’ll finally hit myself a dinger.”
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Channelling BatGirl? A little sass to go with the stats?
Well, it is the Bitch Sox, and bS did complain recently that I don't pull my weight around here, so I thought I'd pick up a sass bat and take a few swings. Besides, I was never all that good with numbers...
sniff, sniff. th-th-thank you, twayn.
I'm all verklempt. that was beautiful.
and, seriously, we wanna see more of your stuff, dude.
That's what she said.
Outstanding.
Just like A Charlie Brown Christmas.
excellent work twayn! BTW, my favorite potluck contribution was Spam Jello. Mmmmm.
The audacity of hope. Nicely played, though a Lego buffet spread woulda knocked it outta the park.
Keep 'em coming, Twayn.