"A can of peaches?" Melinda asked her husband, Larry, as he sat at the empty polished kitchen table holding a can of peaches in his hands, contemplating it.

Pulling a hand through his disheveled brown hair, he replied, "yeah, I was thinking of having a snack, but I need to get back out to the garage and clean out the truck. Do you want to go out to supper, call for a pizza, or do you want to fix something. I'm pretty hungry."

Melinda looked at the can of peaches, green background with a round picture of the orangish yellow peach slices covered with juice. It looked delicious.

"I'm hungry, too, Lar. Let me think about it, and when you get back inside, we'll decide."

"Sure, sounds good." He set the can of peaches on the table, got up, and walked to the door. Stopping at the door, his blue jeans and red plaid shirt neat and tidy, he brushed at percieved wrinkles in the material. He turned back to Melinda and winked, "see ya in a bit."

Melinda looked at the can of peaches. She pulled a rubber band from her pocket and pulled her wavy raven colored hair into a ponytail. She pulled at the collar of her pink t-shirt and looked down at her blue jeans. They were slightly baggy. She really did feel hungry. She looked at the can of peaches again. She remembered when she was a kid, she used to pour half a glass of peach juice and mix with half a glass of milk. The thick syrup and milk made a tasty fun drink. As she thought about it, her stomach rumbled. She looked at the can, again, her taste buds reminding her how delicious canned peaches were. She thought about how good toasted peanut butter sandwiches and canned sliced peaches, together, were. Take a bite of peanut butter sandwich, take a bite of peach, chew - fantastic!

Finally, she put four slices of bread in the toaster, brought margerine from the refrigerator, and pulled down the plastic container of Extra Crunchy "Choosey mothers choose Jiff" peanut butter, from the cabinet. When the toast popped up, she spread margerine on two toast slices, then dug the table knife into the Extra Crunchy Jiff. She pulled out a huge glob and spread it generously on the other two slices and put them together. Finally, she cut the toasted peanut butter sandwiches, all the while, thinking about how good the peaches would taste.

Melinda picked at the label of the peach can. It was loose. She pulled it off. She looked through the cans of food to see if there were any other peaches. There weren't. She pulled out a can of hash, similar in size, and set it next to the peaches. She found a glue stick, and proceeded to glue the sliced peaches label onto the can of hash.

There. If she ate the whole can of peaches, Larry would think there was still a can.

From a drawer near the sink, Melinda pulled out the manual can opener. Holding the can over the sink, she opened it. Anticipating the smell of peaches to emit from the can, once opened, she was immediately concerned when a meaty spicy smell wafted up from the can. Once she pulled off the lid, she found she had opened a can of hash. Wondering how that happened, she emptied the can into a skillet, and turned on the range burner. She pulled out an onion, and, after pealing and rinsing, she sliced it into the hash. Once the hash was thoroughly warmed and the onions cooked, she cracked some eggs into it. She put the cover on, and turned the temperature to simmer.

She brought the lettuce and salad dressings from the refrigerator. Tearing the lettuce into a large bowl, she put that in the middle of the table. Plates and silverware were placed in two spots, and the toasted peanut butter sandwiches were also placed at each setting. Glasses of water were placed within reach.

Larry came in from the garage, he washed his hands and face, and said, "so, what'll it be?"

"Supper's ready," she replied, as she dished up the hash, onions, and eggs.

"Hash. My favorite! Thanks, honey!"

As they both ate with gusto, Melinda made a checklist in her mind for tomorrow. At lunch, she was going to go to the grocery store. She was going to buy at least four cans of peaches, and she was going to have one for lunch.

Labels: canned food, fiction, peaches