Food Memoir: Fried

Audrey already had some. She was killing me, the way she slowly crunched down on ever morsel of that delicious fried dough, obviously savoring its greasy crust.

A thin, airy sort of breeze blew by, sending a puff of powdered sugar my way. As it drifted through my nostrils, the craving intensified.

I felt like my stomach was about to eat itself.

I lunged. "Eugh!" squealed Audrey, swiping her plate out of my reach, "Go get your own!"

"I can't!," I whined, "You know that I only have two dollars with me, and you lost my dad." 

"How was it my fault?" We started to bicker.

Long story short, after much ado about nothing, I got my fried dough. And so, our little band of tourists headed to a horse show being run in a building not far from the fried dough stand. 

Oh, the things you could see at The Big E! The show wasn't anything fancy, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right? We were content, sitting in our soft theater style seats and enjoying our (fresh?) pastries. Dad, however, wasn't so gratified. I guess seeing someone else eating a colossal lump of fried carbs can make anyone hungry.

"Let me taste some," said my dad, reaching over to rip a piece. Like Audrey, I immediately snatched it away, in the direction of Audrey. Doing so, a huge cloud of sticky powdered sugar settled upon us.

"Gah!" "Ugh!" We all exclaimed, quickly dusting ourselves off. Audrey wanted to get up and shake her jacket out thoroughly. She commanded that I hold her bag.

You see, the seats weren't huge. They were also the type that snapped up when one got up. So, by standing up, Aud managed to set up a gruesomely sticky chain reaction that makes me feel like washing my hands just thinking about it.

The horse show was long, and so we sat there eating, watching, and giggling. My hunger was satisfied. I was also slowing down. Finally, I actually looked at my plate.

Whaaat?

Two thirds of the fried dough was still there! That was freaky. Shouldn't mostly b gone by now? I looked at Audrey's plate. She had even more left over!

Taking another bite, I realized that I didn't feel so good. And Audrey... had stopped eating. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over me, and the staleness of the powdered sugar, the hint of- was it lard?- made me feel like I couldn't take another bite.

I forced myself to eat just a little more, for the sake of not wasting. Bleh. "Want some?" I offered Dad, maintaining a sincere face.

"Why?" asked my dad suspiciously.

"Nothing, I just thought you'd like some fried dough," I stated. Innocent. "Geez, didn't you want it before?" Apparently not. Maybe that powdered sugar incident changed his mind.

I grabbed Audrey by the hand. "Come on. We're finished." Then, with great, gallant strides, we marched up to the brown speckle plastic trashcan (who chooses these colors anyway?) and smartly flipped our plates inside.

Thump. Thump. Another- rather foul smelling- powdered sugar cloud. I looked at Aud. Aud looked at me. We grinned, raised out hands slightly, and gave each other a light high five.

"Thank God that stuff is gone," she exclaimed, "Now, let's wash our hands!"

"Don't forget about enjoying the rest of the show!"