Here's Irving Berlin's entry:
Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee
Just around the corner,
There's a rainbow in the sky,
So let's have another cup of coffee,
And let's have another piece of pie.
Trouble's like a bubble,
And the clouds will soon roll by,
So let's have another cup of coffee,
And let's have another piece of pie.
Let a smile be your umbrella,
For it's just an April shower,
Even John D. Rockefeller
Is looking for the silver lining!
Mr. Herbert Hoover
Says that now's the time to buy,
So let's have another cup of coffee,
And let's have another piece of pie!
pie
I don't understand the urge to gussie up food. Three-adjective-and-a-noun flavors just strike me as something too afraid to stand up for itself. Prove to me you can make ice cream, give me your best vanilla and stand or fall.
Pie. Apple, hot. No ice cream. No, not even on the side. Cinnamon, apple slices just soft enough to give. Dense, buttery crust.
Lemon merengue. No shavings of anything on top, just the merengue, the lemon, the crust.
Chocolate. Dark, warm, maybe some whipped cream if I'm feeling giddy.
Pie. For some things, a blood sugar spike is worth the cost.
Blessed mother, I'm hungry.
Oy. At some point, something in a topic will resonate with me again. Not right now, though. Right now, anything I tried to write on this would feel like a writing class exercise. No resonance, alas.
Ah well. I've got enough writing to get done with deadline gun at my head; I'll sit back and just read, for a change.
Challenge #128 is a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
I have this overwhelming urge to write a Twin Peaks drabble.
And yet, these aren't fic drabbles.
(Actually, I don't have a drabble in mind, other than the connection between Twin Peaks and coffee + pie. I just needed to point it out. Mmmm....pie....)
And yet, these aren't fic drabbles.
Nope, but I have an urge to write a Supernatural drabble around the topic.
Mebbe we could bend the rules, just for a week?
Oh, the people being sucked in by the SPN fandom....
(I can't cope with creepy shit, much like the way I can't cope with medical dramas -- if I watch them, I have a complete nervous breakdown. So SPN is not in my future, alas.)
With Pie
Dark and rich, I breathe in the aroma of the coffee in my cup. Out my window I can see the quilt of turned leaves that covers the ground and piles up against the coop in the backyard. A basket of apples sits on the balcony, keeping crisp in the cool air of the autumn afternoon. Later tonight, I’ll peel them, pile them high with a flurry of butter shavings before I put the crust on. I’ll surround myself with the sounds and smells of the last of the season. But, first, I take my axe in hand. It’s time.
