Broadcast: March 21, 2004

SCRAMBLED EGGS WITH LIMA BEANS AND LIVER

     At our house, my mom makes this announcement one year that birthdays are special. Now, we all know this anyway, but my mom likes to make announcements and since Neil’s birthday is coming up, that’s my little brother, I see this light bulb going off in his eyes. In order to understand this story, you’ve got to understand a little something about Neil. He’s not a bad kid, as brothers go, but when I see the light bulb thing going off in his eyes, it sends a shudder right through my soul to the very depths of my skin. It still does, even now that we’ve grown up.
     But I’m digressing which means I’m just talking and not really talking about what I mean to be talking about which is my little bother’s birthday. I call him my little bother because that’s what he really is, a bother. And this time, Neil sees this birthday thing as a way, a really sick, disgusting way to really, really, really get me.
     You see, Neil knows there are three things in this life that I just can’t accept. They are scrambled eggs, lima beans and liver. Some people believe these objects can actually be eaten by live humans but I know better. I know all about the plot of the evil aliens to take over the world with these three items of so-called food.
     So when my little bother hears about this new birthday thing from Mom, he decides this is how he will finish me, how he will turn my life-energy off in a blinding flash of scrambled eggs, lima beans and liver—all mixed together in a sort of sick, hashed casserole. My mother, as everyone knows, is not of this world so she thinks this is a splendid idea and declares that, hence forward, this meal will be known as Neil’s Dish.
     Already I am starting to turn green around the gills. The liver, she proclaims, will be chopped in postage-stamp sized lumps and mixed with the unearthly lima beans and then cooked with the eggs as they are scrambled. Dad is on my side but the man refuses to say anything because he’s still in the dog house for breaking one of mom’s little figurines of a little kid with a fishing pole and a sign that says, No Fishin’ but Lots of Wishin’. He said it was an accident but I know better but that’s a topic for another story, year’s from now when the statute of limitations runs out.
     All day I am dreading this meal. The more I dread, the more Neil delights until I just can’t stand it anymore. So on my little bother’s birthday I eat a huge breakfast and a huge lunch and I decide to coast through dinner without touching the so-called Neil Dish.
     Only, by dinner time I am starving. The smell coming from the kitchen chokes our dog, Zippy, who usually eats anything and everything. The poor beast is whimpering in the corner, begging to be put down but everybody ignores him and goes about their lives as if nothing special was taking place. But it is.
     And then, the moment arrives. Mom sets before me a heaping plate of quivering scrambled eggs, studded with green lumps and brown squares. The stuff is still moving long after the blessing and I think, please God, put this food out of its misery.
     And then it hits me. It hits me like a snowball thrown by Paul Ludwig, my neighbor would be a major league baseball star if he wasn’t six years old and still sleeping with his blankie. Pow! All I have to do is eat the stuff. That’s all it takes to break the spell Neil is trying to weave over me. So I take a bite. The taste is out of this world. There are no words in the English language to describe the taste because those words have not yet been invented.
     Neil, on the other hand, is not doing so well. He can’t decide what is worse, the taste of his birthday dinner or the fact that I am able to keep the stuff down and smile. I shoot a glance at Dad and I see the same picture—a man who eats anything without comment is bursting with disgust. But me, I’m smiling and eating and even picking bits of food off my little brother’s plate as if this was tuna noodle casserole and everything else in life was normal.
     Well, funny thing but the next day, Mom makes this announcement like that no longer will any children be in charge of meal planning at our house, birthday or not. I don’t say anything because I’ve proven my point and, hey, scrambled eggs with lima beans and liver isn’t really that bad. Then I get a grip of myself and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just to cleanse my soul.

The End