The prompts for December are provided by Wisewebwoman and can be found @ Elephant's Child.
The general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
- - A - - B - - C - -
This week's prompts are:
Soccer
and/or
Nepotism
Lectern
Lantern
Gorgonzola
Yet another story from Susan's everyday life. I did not use all the words. The story is all true, but the parts happened over several visits to this Pizzeria, which was one of the first to open in Denmark in the 70es, and a great place.
After school Susan and her classmates stood outside the gate.
"Have you heard about the new, Italian restaurant that has opened down at the market square?" Petra asked.
Susan was all ears. Ever since she had been to Italy last summer, her taste buds had been longing for Italian food.
Mette, the high blonde all the others looked to for lead was for once at a loss for words. She was normally the first to hear such news.
Luckily their young English teacher choose this very moment to greet them: "Well, hello my favourite pupils," she began. As she greeted all her classes with these words, none felt anything special about it any more. "Tomorrow is the last day before our holidays, I feel rich, and I want to treat you all to a pizza or something at the new place before it gets overrun. What do you say?" Those last words were unnecessary, as the happy noises from the girls could be heard across the street, shattering the serenity of an old man studying the marble obelisk commemorating the reunification of 1920.
The class had never been as well-prepared for their English lessons as they were next day. When the lessons had ended they all walked to the market square.
They sat at a big table, Anne noted what all the girls would like. Two did not like pizza at all, and wanted to try ravioli after finding out that it was something like filled spaghetti. Most wanted Pizza quattro stagioni with ham and mushrooms, and a few adventurous, among them Anne, choose a pizza capricciosa with artichokes and olives.
Susan studied the menu for a while. Then she found it. "How confusing," she said. "In Rome this pizza was called Pizza napoletana, here it's a Pizza romana. But at least that's what I would like."
"It has anchovises on it, eww," Petra said.
"You seem to agree with most other people," Susan said smiling, "I happen to detest olives and love anchovies. When we were in Rome, I asked for this pizza, and the waiter asked me several times if it really was what I meant, and the kitchen staff stood in the back of the restaurant, looking at this young straniera, eating anchovies on her pizza. My dad told me after we left. I'm happy I did not see it myself. I would have died."
Anne went to the counter and ordered, or at least tried to. After talking to the young man behind the counter, writing and discussing for several minutes she returned: "Susan, how much Italian did you learn on that holiday? I can't make him understand that we want 10 pizzas, not 12 and then two portions of ravioli."
"I can try," Susan said, "as you know, I am a language nerd, and we were in Italy for three weeks. At least I know the numbers."
Susan went to the counter, took Anne's notes and slowly asked for "Due ravioli, per favore," The young man smiled encouragingly at her and she continued. "E dieci pizze. Una Romana, tre Capricciose e sei Quattro stagione."
"Brava!" the young man said and smiled broadly. This made him look younger, even more like a boy, and Susan suspected he might be younger than they were. "E per bevere?"
"What would we drink?" Susan translated without thinking. "Did you think of this, Anne, isn't it mighty expensive?"
"You can all have one soft drink," Anne said, loud enough for everybody to hear it, "And then it's water for the rest of the meal."
Susan tried her hand at translating this: "Acqua per tutti e una bottiglia di err ... hmm ... I don't know soft drink in Italian."
But the young man understood: "Acqua, e una bibita per cada una. Sì, ho capito. Sedetevi, ed io vengo con tutto."
"We sit, he brings," Susan half guessed, and he nodded vigorously.
Waiting for the pizzas they talked about the coming exams, parents and holiday plans. Susan stopped listening and her attention drifted to one of the wall paintings. It was an old bridge, almost hidden by foliage, in a sun drenched, Italian landscape. Susan felt that she should know that place, but she was not up to showing more off by asking about it. She decided to save for a return.
The pizzas were fabulous, and surprisingly eaten to the very last bite of the crust.
And here the story ends. I ran out of steam, and only used half of the words. No promises, but maybe more will come off this - there is an Italian connexion in all the sorcery and witchcraft.
