Lulubelle rides again ... so to speak. Lulubelle is employed in a store called, Way Out West. It specializes in western flavored gifts, furniture and expensive artifacts all designed to cause tourist billfolds to spew money like erupting geysers.
One of Lulubelle’s co-workers is a real pain in the derriere, the kind that makes other people think of going postal. For purposes of this story, she shall be designated as Lorraine-the-Pain.
Another staff member shall be called Waste-Not-Cook. Her favorite hobby is, well, cooking. She dreams up innovative dishes, then throws huge dinner parties to test out her culinary creations. Lulubelle once helped Waste-Not-Cook clean up after a 10 course meal served to 30 guests. Due to the number of courses and generous servings — urged on by Waste-Not-Cook — the amount of vittles remaining on the dinner plates as they were removed to the kitchen, could have fed an entire troop of Boy Scouts for 10 days.
“I never waste anything,” bragged Waste-Not. “I always make soup from what the guests don’t eat,” she added and proceeded to scrape left-over food from thirty plates into a kettle. Lulubelle uttered no criticisms but vowed silently never again to partake of Waste-Not-Cook’s cookery.
In the Way Out West store, the next day began on a sour note when Lorraine-the-Pain babbled a tale of woe about a hang nail, complained that her paper clips didn’t work, whined that the coffee pot was empty, somebody should make some ...
Lulubelle, busier than a rabbit in a lettuce patch, felt her self-control teeter. Then onto the scene bounced Waste-Not-Cook bearing a large box containing a large kettle from which an aroma wafted. She had, she said, made a wonderful chicken, antelope, venison, elk, okra, carrots, onions, peppers, herbs, and mystery vegetables soup and brought it to work. Bubbling with the enthusiasm of a passionate hobbyist, she offered the potage to Lulubelle.
“Let me know what you think,” caroled Waste-Not-Cook. “I’m planning to enter a contest. I’m naming it Meat Lovers Chowder Surprise Soup.”
After Waste-Not-Cook departed, Lorraine-the-Pain grumbled. “Humph! Why didn’t Waste-Not make me some soup?! It’s my favorite food, you know.”
With a sly grin, Lulubelle insisted, “You take it, Lorraine. You deserve it.”
And with that, metaphorically speaking, Lulubelle rode off into the sunset. ❖
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