Dinner for Two

Time was short and I was hungry. It was past noon, and the tummy was grumbling. Apparently that grande coffee and Rice Crispy treat wasn't the breakfast-of-champions that I thought it was.

There were things to do, motions to file, letters to write. So, I jumped in the car and made a run for the border. Well, not a border in any literal political sense. I went to Taco Bell.

And there I sat, with discarded Burrito Supreme and soft taco wrappers strewn across the mauve laminate table. I was reading the day's newspaper. This was not so much to catch up on the current events, as it was an attempt to not look like the hapless friendless lunch loser I really am.

I flipped idly through the pages, discarding useless sections like the classifieds and Sports. It was Tuesday, so I glanced through the special Food section. It occasionally has interesting BBQ ideas.

I came across an odd article about an old man who learned how to cook by making soup in his backyard as a child. It didn't make sense when I read it, and it makes less sense now that I am recalling it.

Regardless, the man was asked: "If you could invite anyone in history to dinner, who would it be?"

Pretentiously, and predictably, he said: "Thomas Jefferson. I'd ply him with an Oregon Pinot Noir. While he talked, I'd cook. What a wonderful occasion that would be."

Now, the man lived in Northeast Portland. So, more than likely, while he cooked, Jefferson would be making time with the attractive African-American lady next door. But I digress.

I sat stewing in my refried-bean-induced lethargy, thinking to myself, "well, self, who the hell would you invite to dinner?"

The possibilities swam wildly through my imagination.

Jesus, perhaps: "Excuse me, Mr. Son of Man, could you heal my pancreas? No? Right, I didn't think so..."

Julius Caesar: "Yes sir, we call them 'The French' now, and no, they're not quite as tough as when you fought them..."

Nicolaus Copernicus: "...Right, eight. I mean, there were nine, but someone change the definition."

Leonardo DiVinci: "Tell the truth Leo, that really is you in the picture, right?"

Napoleon: "You're the military genius here, but I'm just saying, you might want to avoid taking little naps during large battles in Belgium..."

All of these guests would make for fine fellowship and delightful dinner discourse. However, if I were ever presented with the option of selecting anyone in history to dine with, I'd probably choose Christina Ricci. I mean, I always serve wine with dinner, and if I got her drunk, she might make out with me.

(Yes, I am married, but Christina is on the Laminated List, so it's OK.)