THE PUDDING LIKE A NIGHT ON THE SEA
THE PUDDING LIKE A NIGHT ON THE SEA
Ann Cameron
“I’m going to make something special for your mother”, my father said . My mother was out shopping. My father was in the kitchen looking at the pots and the pans and the jars of this and that.
“What are you going to make?” I said. “A pudding” he said.
My father is a big man with wild black hair. When he laughs, the sun laughs in the windowpanes. When he thinks, you can almost see his thoughts sitting on all the tables and chairs. When he is hungry, me and my little brother Huey shiver to the bottom of our shoes.
“What kind of pudding will you make?” Huey said. “A wonderful pudding”, my father said. It will taste like a whole raft of lemons. It will taste like a night on the sea.”
Then he took down a knife and sliced five lemons in half. He squeezed the first one. Juice squirted in my eye. “Stand back!” he said, and squeezed again. The seeds flew out on the floor. “Pick up those seeds, Huey!” he said.
Huey took the broom and swept them up. My father cracked some eggs and put the yolks in a pan and the whites in a bowl. He rolled up his sleeves and pushed back his hair and beat up the yolks. “Sugar, Julian!” he said, and I poured in the sugar.
He went on beating. Then he put in lemon juice and cream and set the pan on the stove. The pudding bubbled, “Wipe that up, Huey!” He said. Huey did.
It was hot by the stove. My father loosened his collar and pushed at his sleeves. The stuff in the pan was getting thicker and thicker. He held the beater up high in the air.
“Just right!” he said, and sniffed in the smell of the pudding.
He whipped the egg whites and mixed them into the pudding. The pudding looked softer and lighter than air.
“Done!” he said. He washed all the pots, splashing water on the floor, and wiped the counter so fast his hair made circles around his head.
“Perfect!” he said. “Now I’m going to take a nap. If something important happens, bother me. If nothing important happens, don’t bother me. And -the
Ann Cameron
“I’m going to make something special for your mother”, my father said . My mother was out shopping. My father was in the kitchen looking at the pots and the pans and the jars of this and that.
“What are you going to make?” I said. “A pudding” he said.
My father is a big man with wild black hair. When he laughs, the sun laughs in the windowpanes. When he thinks, you can almost see his thoughts sitting on all the tables and chairs. When he is hungry, me and my little brother Huey shiver to the bottom of our shoes.
“What kind of pudding will you make?” Huey said. “A wonderful pudding”, my father said. It will taste like a whole raft of lemons. It will taste like a night on the sea.”
Then he took down a knife and sliced five lemons in half. He squeezed the first one. Juice squirted in my eye. “Stand back!” he said, and squeezed again. The seeds flew out on the floor. “Pick up those seeds, Huey!” he said.
Huey took the broom and swept them up. My father cracked some eggs and put the yolks in a pan and the whites in a bowl. He rolled up his sleeves and pushed back his hair and beat up the yolks. “Sugar, Julian!” he said, and I poured in the sugar.
He went on beating. Then he put in lemon juice and cream and set the pan on the stove. The pudding bubbled, “Wipe that up, Huey!” He said. Huey did.
It was hot by the stove. My father loosened his collar and pushed at his sleeves. The stuff in the pan was getting thicker and thicker. He held the beater up high in the air.
“Just right!” he said, and sniffed in the smell of the pudding.
He whipped the egg whites and mixed them into the pudding. The pudding looked softer and lighter than air.
“Done!” he said. He washed all the pots, splashing water on the floor, and wiped the counter so fast his hair made circles around his head.
“Perfect!” he said. “Now I’m going to take a nap. If something important happens, bother me. If nothing important happens, don’t bother me. And -the