Dad was sitting at the kitchen counter eating potato chips
from a bag. I went to the cupboard and got out a can of
"bean cake" that I had purchased on Clement Street.

I opened the can, got out a spoon, and nudged them both
towards Dad. "Try this!" I said.

"It looks horrible," he said. The bean cake had a fermented
smell.

"It only cost 19 cents. Probably because it is so
delicious."

Dad ate a spoonful and grimaced. He ate a handful of
chips rapidly.

"That was horrible," he said. "Throw it out."

"I don't like to waste food. If you're not going to
eat it, maybe you should deal with it."

Then I giggled and ran up the stairs. Dad ran after
me.

"JESUS!" I said, when he caught up. "You know that
Ned and I are still traumatized from when you chased
us up the stairs as kids?"

"But I'm just a Dad."

"It doesn't matter. It is universally frightening to
be chased up a staircase."

He trundled off, muttering something under his breath:

"I just like to see things run away from me."



Index