Philip Hassey
(Creative Writing 2)
dan+mac+cheese
Back in the day, the tradition at the First Congregational Church in Hopkinton was to have a pot-
luck diner every third Saturday of the month. This was a symbolic reminder of Christ's ressurection from
the grave on the third day, and therefore a justification for so many pot-luck diners.
The diners were usually mediocre. Not many of the people at the church were particularly good
at cooking, at least the ones who came to the diner weren't too good at it. Lots of them would bring in
these disgusting dishes: dark bits of charred meat on some sort of unpleasant tasting sauce. None of those
dishes went down too well with my stomach.
The few old ladies of the church who did know how to cook took measures to make sure that
everyone would be fed good food. Each pot-luck, they'd spend the afternoon at the church cooking up this
delicious macaroni and cheese. They'd make a huge vat of the stuff. Excellent, then even if all the other
dishes were gross, we'd still have the macaroni and cheese to gorge on.
My best friend Dan and I loved the macaroni and cheese. This particular Saturday, we were both
at the church a bit early, his dad being a pastor and all, we hung around the church a lot. Sitting around,
we saw the old ladies beginning to prepare the meal. It looked delicious. The beautiful curves of the
elbow macaronis, the mouth-watering smell, and the amazing color seduced us. We had to have all of it
to our selves.
"Orange is a nice color," said Dan.
"But what's really intense is the taste," I replied.
"Yes," said Dan, "I don't think I'd be bothered a bit if they weren't orange. Even if they were
purple I think I'd eat them."
"Me too," I said, "Although not many others would be to eager to eat purple macaroni and
cheese."
"No they wouldn't," said Dan, "Would they."
We went on a brief trip to Hopkinton drug, and "borrowed" some food coloring.
After a while, the old ladies left the macaroni and cheese in its vat, while they went to check on
the nursery, so Dan and I decided to make our move. Taking the "borrowed" food coloring, we emptied
the entire bottles of red and blue coloring into the vat. After a few stirs the macaroni and cheese was a
unique shade of purple.
Not wanting to be discovered, Dan and I slunk back to the table where our parents were seated.
Displaying our vast Bible memorization skills, we rattled off a profound verse, 1 Corinthians 10:31, "So
whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."
Dan added, "And that means, that what we're doing tonight brings glory to God. So let us praise
God by eating!" Our parents beamed with pride.
Pastor Germaine eventually led us in the final blessing of the food, and then we all lined up for
the pot-luck. The old ladies at the far end of the row of pot-luck tables lifted the large top off of the vat of
macaroni and cheese to reveal the odd-colored purple masterpiece. One of the ladies screamed and
dropped the top on the floor.
"Who did this?" shouted someone.
Dan and I had been slowly growing an unfortunate reputation, and so fingers began to point
towards us. Once they found the food coloring in our pockets, it became time for the punishment.
The four old ladies took us, two of them held us so that we were back to back about two feet
apart. The other two ladies used stirring paddles and paddled back and forth between our two bottoms. It
was a painful experience, that I am glad I never had to experience a second time.
After they were through Dan piped in again, "But we meant for it to be a symbol! Purple as a
symbol of Christ, to emphasize Christ's lordship and victory over the grave."
The congregation looked at the old ladies, and they bend down on their knees and begged for
forgiveness. Dan and I grabbed the paddles and paddled them. It felt good to do that. Of course we had
to run for our lives afterwards, but it was well worth it.
