Pulp Cooking
Melinda Adams

I had just got back from seeing "A Touch of Evil" and I ran into the kitchen to tell my mother, who was cooking with apron on and her hair and make-up in perfect shape, what I had decided my calling was.

“Mom, I know what I‘m going to do with my life!” I shouted with glee.

“What is it my excited little one?” she asked as she mixed the batter in the bowl.

“I’m going to write mystery movies or detective books.” I said, as I began to ramble on about the amusingness of the movie I had just seen. I was so excited, I couldn’t sit still.

My mother gave me the flour to shift. “Writer. That doesn’t seem like a proper career for a young lady. Are you sure that is what you want to do?”

“The dialogue was so colorful in the movie. If I could write like that, I would be so happy. Hell, I write and talk like that sort of and have since I was a little girl. Remember the murder mystery puppet shows I did when I was three. I really think I could be a great writer.” I stammered out.

“I remember, they were good. Don’t curse though and shift the flour carefully or you will ‘gum up’ the cake.” She said with a giggle. “No my sweet child, you see unhappy, tormented, insane women write. Happy women bake cakes.” She finished saying as she gave me the spoon to lick.

First published: May, 2003
comments: knobs@iceflow.com