Time for the unvarnished truth. [ed. Again?] Two Sundays back I went to bed in the afternoon to kill a nasty hangover with unconsciousness and woke up with a fever. I had been having one of those fever dreams that involves multiple wakings and implausible blurrings of reality. I'd been dreaming that I was going to fry some onions and garlic in the red curry paste in our fridge, but the curry paste was tired of being food and clearly resented me for constantly scooping out a tablespoon or two and throwing it in with the snow peas and the tofu. I woke up so angry at the red curry paste. I knew that I couldn't eat something that held me in reproach for my hunger. I lay in bed with my teeth gritted, ready to get up and tell the paste how much I hated it. We ordered pizza.
CRYPTIC COMIC COOKING ADVICE FROM 1950, UNRESOLVED
