Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre(59)

She didn’t have to bring anything. We’d agreed on that at her house. But she’d whipped up another noodle soup. It was thicker, darker, and rougher than her soba. She explained that she’d tried to make naengmyeon but apologized for using too much arrowroot starch. I don’t think anyone cared. I didn’t. For the first time since the eruption, I felt the bliss of a full stomach!

And it was also an entertaining dish, because when I looked over at Pal and exclaimed, “Oh look, worm soup!” the whole conversation shifted to eating bugs. Effie asked if we’d had any chance to dig for garden worms, which jump-started Carmen on a Washington Post story about the insect element of the real “paleo diet.”

Dan brought up the time he’d tried a dish of fried crickets at this restaurant in Santa Monica. (I’d been there and politely declined to partake.)

Effie asked if anyone had heard about cricket flour, and Bobbi joked, or not, that she’d consider cheating on her veganism for a dish of grubs. “Some curry powder, or soy sauce…”

“Or Vegeta,” I added, to Mostar’s approving nod.

That really got Dan going. “We should totally try it! Wash them good, cook them, all that protein! There’s gotta be, like, tons of grubs under all those rotted logs out there.” He glanced out at the dark window, then at the suddenly cooling faces. One step too far, mentioning the woods. I felt bad for Dan. He blew it and he knew it. Under the table, I supportively pressed my knee against his.

He tried to recover though, adding, “Obviously not now, tomorrow, when it’s light and…”

And it was Reinhardt, of all people, who rescued the mood of the group.

“While we’re all clearly eager to become orthodox insectivores”—he patted Dan’s back—“might I suggest making do with…”

Like a magician, he made a dramatic gesture of approaching the small Common House freezer, waving his hands in the air, then opening the door to reveal six pints of, I’m not kidding, ice cream!

We all stared. I think Dan even said, “Whoa…”

I just stuttered. “Waitwhat…where?” I’d gone through every inch of his kitchen!

“My apologies.” Reinhardt raised his hands in mock surrender. “I hope you’ll forgive the prevarication of concealing this cache in my inner sanctum.”

“A freezer in your bedroom?” Mostar chuckled with a shake of the head.

“Decadent, I admit,” Reinhardt began, scooping the containers out in one arm, “and empty now, I assure you.” He placed them all in a ceremonious line down the center of the table. Halo Top ice cream!

Oh, the cravings I’ve been having!

For a second, we just ogled it, like treasure hunters opening the pirate’s chest. I don’t think anyone has run out of frozen desserts by this point. I mean, it’s only been a week and a half since the eruption. But the psychology of rationing, I get it now. I understand what Mostar was trying to tell me about our country, and why we were all so grateful for Reinhardt’s gesture. For just this moment, we could go back to normal, to have as much as we wanted, to feel American again.

I’m not sure if anyone thought about it that deeply, but when Carmen said, “What, no cookie dough!” we all broke into laughter. It felt so good to laugh.

Reinhardt, doling out bowls and spoons, invited us all to dig in. Dan scooped out a gluttonous chunk of sea salt caramel, then, bypassing the bowl, shoved the whole thing in his mouth, and moaned what I think is the word “sploosh” (a reference to his favorite show, Archer). Nobody seemed to mind. Bobbi even joked, “You must really like the protein.” I don’t know if she meant Halo’s extra grams of protein or…something else, go Bobbi.

Pal, with eyes now half the size of her face, glanced at her parents for permission, then practically leapt onto the pancake and waffle. My favorite. I wasn’t greedy though, a few scoops at the bottom were more than enough.

Oh my God! You forget. Even though I’d been having a sweet ration since this began, a spoonful of agave or honey, or some of Mostar’s real brown sugar. It’s not the same. The surprise! That cold mix of cream, ice, and sweetener cocktail: sugar, stevia, and what, heaven?

“Not having any?” I looked over to see Dan offering the mint chip pint to Reinhardt. Sitting back in his chair, hands on his belly, he shook his head. “I’ve had enough.” And for a second, he looked genuinely chagrined. “I’ve been hoarding these for too long, intending to engulf them alone.”

“And in one sitting,” added Carmen, which made us all laugh again. Reinhardt too. Pink cheeked, he took the jibe in stride with a theatrical bow.

Still laughing, he gripped his wineglass and, to my utter surprise, pointed it toward me. “Our hostess!”

“We got us!” added Mostar, which prompted a chorus of “We got us!”

I felt my eyes sting, my throat tighten, as everyone burst out into spontaneous applause.

And only when the applause died, in that first moment of silence as we drank, did we hear the cries outside.





* The Muppet Show, Episode 211, “With our very special guest star, Mr. Dom DeLuise.”





    Chimpanzees nearly always eat meat slowly, usually chewing leaves with each new mouthful as though to savor the taste for as long as possible….Often, too, I saw them actually licking the branches of the tree where the kill had touched them or where drops of blood presumably had fallen.