Chowderhead
"This is fantastic, Mary."
"It’s Aunt Jo’s famous corn chowder."
"Could I have the recipe?"
"Sorry, family secret. You know how it goes."
"I’m not family? One hint, I can’t place this flavor."
"That’s why it’s a secret," she snips, giving me a look. We eat on in silence, ‘til:
"What’s this?"
"What?"
"I don’t know, it sunk back in the bowl. It looked like it had eyes."
"I’m sure it was nothing."
I take another bite. I feel something odd, and spit it out in my hand. "This is nothing?"
She gulps.
"Haven’t you ever heard of a chowderhead?"
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