"What are grits, anyway?": a drabble
Mar. 13th, 2008 10:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_losficThe milled porridge was a warm salty weight in his mouth. He tongued the soft, buttery lump, licking traces from his lips.
“Oh Doctor,” he moaned, “you were so right—breakfast of champions.”
“And are you sorry for mocking a ‘silly human regional peccadillo,’ just because you didn’t understand it?”
“So penitent I might be willing to demonstrate my appreciation of salty flavors. It’s only been a few hours, but do you, like the South, rise again?”
“Shush or you’ll see less action than Maine did.”
“And here I was hoping you’d take me like Sherman through Georgia.”
“…I hate you.”
“Oh Doctor,” he moaned, “you were so right—breakfast of champions.”
“And are you sorry for mocking a ‘silly human regional peccadillo,’ just because you didn’t understand it?”
“So penitent I might be willing to demonstrate my appreciation of salty flavors. It’s only been a few hours, but do you, like the South, rise again?”
“Shush or you’ll see less action than Maine did.”
“And here I was hoping you’d take me like Sherman through Georgia.”
“…I hate you.”
