By Tom Harris and Michael Griffin
(this story was written on the occasion of a visit of our friend, Peter Kreutlein, from Canada)
Out of the mouth of flies comes the best recipes for left-overs. My favourite recipe for plankton is in Reader's Digest. I never made any, but you should try it sometime. It's costly, but not as costly as Spam fritters.
Canadians enjoy parsnip patties, always eating them after dinner instead of dessert. I wish parsnip farmers would advertise more. The problem is such a mess! I wish they'd clean up their cluttered farms, so I would be able to watch more of my favorite Canadian animals frolic in the pastures.
When I go to Canada, I'll be sure to send you a parsnip patty via the Pony Parade of Excellence! You'll have so many friends that you will not go out again! My life will be immortalized in infamy forever, because I have always purchased Canadian parsnips. American parsnips are nasty. They smell, and I think smelly parsnips are extremely bad. They make me vomit, because I hate everything they stand for. They are rancid, horrible and just plain awful. My pet iguana, Percy, ate parsnips from America. He died. My family was sad, but not for Percy. They were sorry for the American Parsnips Association. That is why I hate Americans, especially the farmers of parsnips. In Canada, no farmers are evil because they all grow nice parsnips that aren't as nasty as American parsnips.
Plankton farmers use Canadian parsnips for fertilizer in their plankton fields. When they harvest the plankton, Reader's Digest sends a photographer to photograph the plankton, which is infused with parnsip remnants.They make a big fuss over it, because it's Canadian and coloured with fluorescent seasoning. When the Canadian prime-minister eats plankton, he is sure happy that he is being well-fed and goofy. I'd rather die Canadian than spend a millisecond visiting America!
In Montreal, Peter Kreutlein eats plankton and parsnip patties in his spare room. Other Canadians use Peter's recipe because it's better than mine. He reads it aloud for television shows everywhere!
My favourite food is pizza. Peter hates pizza. He'd rather eat plankton flambe than American pizza. In fact, he'd starve rather than eat pizza.
In America, plankton is nasty. Mrs. Goyet prepares imported food from Ecuador, which is Peter's favourite, so he'll stuff himself profusely. Mrs. Goyet makes several varieties of soup out of shrimp, noodles, poodles, pork and rice pudding. Beer flows freely and makes me thirsty for Mrs. Goyet's famous soup. In her pantry lies a large trap for potential ingredients. Thieves never venture into her pantry, at no small cost to Mrs. Goyet. However, Peter appreciates the trouble, especially if his favourite soup is cooking.
"Hullo, Mum! Is there any soup in your pot? I wish I had a big bowl now!" Peter always asks,
"Yes, Peter, I made a pot this big! It's larger than you! In fact, I had trouble reaching into the pot, because it is far too big!" Mrs. Goyet replied.
Peter served himself a huge ladle-full of soup, without offering any soup to his company, because it wouldn't have pleased him if they ate it. Peter tasted the soup and loved every gallon! Mrs. Goyet had Peter help her make donuts for the guests. They loved the donuts. Peter didn't eat any donuts, as he was full of soup. He became quite sleepy, and he took a long knife and threatened the guests. They were scared!
Peter warned them, "Don't eat my soup! I'm not kidding!!"
Mrs. Goyet was summoning the police, because Peter was out of control! "It isn't nice to threaten guests! You'd better stop, or I'll give you a spanking!"
Peter, chastised, wept bitterly and apologized to his guests just because the guests were still frightened.
If you ever eat soup with Peter, beware! He is not evil, he's just hungry.
The End
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