Be Careful What
You Ask For!
by Peter L Oughton
Overall, Robin,
aged twelve, was a very nice young man.
He was polite and considerate, and did help his
mother around the house. However, the one thing
that concerned him was the quality of his mother’s
cooking!
Robin was a bright boy who, star-struck by
celebrity chefs, loved to read cookbooks and
recipes.
So, when his mother served up grey beef and
sloppy vegetables, or roast pork with India
rubber crackling, he offered tips for improvement.
She always refused to react because, whilst she
accepted a need to feed the family, she really
did not enjoy cooking. She just took the view
that, as long as bellies were full, she had
discharged her culinary responsibilities.
Unlike Robin, the other members of the family
simply kept quiet and ate whatever she set before
them.
When, once again, Robin was criticising his
mother one evening for the lumps in the custard,
she finally snapped.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
she screamed. “Nag, nag, nag, nag –
that’s all you do! You’ve never gone
hungry, and the ingredients that I use are always
wholesome.”
“If severely mistreated,” muttered
Robin under his breath but, unfortunately, just
loudly enough for his mother to hear.
“Okay, clever dick,” challenged his
mother. “What would your ideal solution be?”
“Well,” replied Robin, “I would
just prefer to eat something that I actually
enjoy. I would rather eat a plate of chocolate
biscuits. At least they would have been made by
people who knew what they were doing.”
His mother worked hard to keep tears at bay, and
replied simply, “OK.”
The next evening, Robin’s mother served up
one of the very few things at which she was
reasonably competent – fish and chips!
Robin had smelt it cooking and approved. His
mother served him last and, whilst fish and chips
appeared on all other plates, his contained just
chocolate biscuits!
“Is this some kind of joke?” asked
Robin.
“Not at all, my darling,” responded his
mother sweetly. “Just demonstrating that I
did listen to your request.”
Robin realised that the only way out of this was
to put on a brave face and eat the biscuits.
However, the next day, and the next, and the next,
and the next – the same again. There are
only so many chocolate biscuits that one can eat!
At dinner time on the sixth day, Robin sidled up
to his mother.
“Mum,” he crooned.
“Yes, darling,” replied his mother,
pretty certain she knew what was coming.
“How would you feel if I withdrew the
request for chocolate biscuits and went back to
eating your delicious food?”
cajoled Robin.
“It would be a pleasure,” replied his
mother, trying desperately to keep a straight
face. “So pleased to hear that you have
decided it’s not that bad after all. And how
about putting your cook books and recipes in a
box in the attic?”
“It’s a deal, mum,” replied Robin
with a wry smile.
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