THE FOOD FIGHT
by Bob Coar

Doris pensively flipped a bang away from her brow and huffed, “It’s a disaster, Sal.”

“The charity dinner?” Her cousin asked. “What happened?”

“We never should have tried bringing together cuisines from so many different countries. It was bound to go wrong.”

Sally figured Doris must be typically overdramatizing whatever problem occurred. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

For a moment Doris sat quietly, her bottom lip quivering. When she spoke, it came out slow and quiet. “It started with the Kaiser Roll.”

“What started?” Sally blurted impatiently.

“I . . . I suppose you’d call it a food fight.”

Sally laughed. “That’s all? Who started throwing Kaiser Rolls?”

“No!” Doris retorted. “No! I told you, the Kaiser Roll started the fight. It was horrible!”

Sally watched a tear dribble down Doris’s cheek, realizing her cousin meant every word. “Tell me what happened, please.”

“The Kaiser Roll began making speeches to whip up the German Potato Salad,” Doris said numbly. “At first, they held rallies near the Bavarian Pretzels, but it grew into a mass
movement. Before long they’d annexed the Vienna Wafers and the Chex Mix. But that was only a prelude to invading the Polish Sausage.”

Sally could scarce believe her ears.

“Of course the Russian Dressing protested,” Doris said,
“as a pretext for occupying the Swedish Meatballs. The Danish got very nervous and called on the English Muffins for help. Normally the French Toast would have been allied with them, but the Vichy Water had signed a pro-Kaiser Roll concordance alongside the Italian Ice and the Japanese Rice Balls. The Spanish Omelet didn’t go so far, but agreed to a non-aggression pact. I only thank God the Peking Duck never became involved.”

“This is crazy, what you’re telling me,” Sally said.

“It gets worse. The Kaiser Roll’s forces attacked the Dutch Chocolate to the north, and marched into the Hungarian Goulash to the south. They reached an understanding with the Turkish Taffy before goose-stepping through the Greek Salad. The German Potato Salad seemed unstoppable, sending troops through the Black Forest Cake so fast that the Belgians waffled, allowing sour krauts to slip past the Margarine-o Line like a hot bayonet through butter.”

Unbelievable. Sally rose, paced to the window. That so much could go wrong so quickly. A perfectly good dinner ruined, and for what? For madness! She turned back to face her cousin, “Tell
me the rest.”

“Somehow the Swiss Cocoa managed to remain neutral, but
the Irish Stew tried taking advantage of the distraction upon the continental breakfast to stage an uprising against the London Broil at Easter Bread. Many went to their early gravy. Eventually we learned that Hebrew National Franks were being rounded up and sent back to the oven . . .,” Doris’s voice trailed off.

“I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” Sally said. The hurt in her cousin’s eyes could curdle milk. “Where was the America Cheese during all this?”

“At first the people called for an isolationist diet.”

“An isolationist diet?”

Doris nodded. “Yes, lettuce alone. But when the Rice Balls sent submarine sandwiches to torpedo the Hawaiian Punch, well then, you betcha’, the big cheese cried out to raise its own army of hoagie’s heroes. They signed up in droves, volunteers living in the Boston Cream Pie, New England Clam Chowder, the Philly Cheese Steak, the Georgia Peaches, and Louisiana Hot Sauce, all the way to the California Burger and Washington Apples. From as far away as the Baked Alaska soldiers enlisted. Proud sons of the Virginia Ham heeded the call beside brave recruits from the plains of the Texas Weiner, and the backwoods of the Kentucky Fried Chicken.” Doris put a hand over her heart. “And the other western-hemisphere dishes were angry as well. The Canadian Bacon sizzled, Chile boiled, the Mexican Beans were jumping mad, and the Brazil Nuts went even more so. Even the little Bermuda Onion sent out a cry. In the end the Kaiser Roll got its just desserts.”

Sally went and hugged her cousin. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“I suppose some good came of the devastation and destruction,” Doris sniffled.

“Really? What could that be?

Doris grinned. “At least it led to the formation of the International House of Pancakes.”