The Mac and Cheese Monster

Dinner is usually the best time of the day for me. Well, dinner and lunch. All of those who are "in the know" know that I love Mac and Cheese...Kraft...blue box, baby. Well, over the years, I have been known to graduate from a serving of Kraft, to two servings, to the whole dang box. Kraft Mac is truly the nectar of the Gods.

After years of full box servings, I finally found that someone special...and she also liked Kraft. Now I've got the blues. So, we split the Mac and I double up on the side items. Smoked Sausage, Hamburgers, Mashed Potatoes, tots of tater, etc. Both of us soon outgrew this arrangement, so now, when the big hunger arrives, we reach for Mac and Cheese "Deluxe." The box is slightly larger, and helps ease our hunger pains.

I thought this arrangement was working fine, apparently Becky (my someone special for those who don't know) had other thoughts. Last night, we decided to cook up some chicken filets, and endulge in some "Deluxe" Mac. To my surprise, Becky had bought "Deluxe FAMILY SIZE."

I was down with it, at first. After all, we are a family, and nowhere does it specify on the box that in order to fullfill the "Family" requirement, you have to have more than two people in said family.

Our normal size pots were too small to handle the massive portion, so we broke out the Spaghetti pot...and when the smoke cleared, the spaghetti pot was STUFFED with the orange nectar of the Gods.

Normal people would eat what they wanted and throw the extra away. I am not normal. I made a pact several years ago that "any Mac and Cheese I made would not be thrown away." If it meant eating til I was a Cheesy noodle, so be it. And now I sit starring into the bottomless Mac pit.

Damn you, pact!!

Becky, who so graciously created the monstrosity, helped herself to what would amount to a molehill next to the mountain before she declared "No mas." I was stuck, quivering behind a pact that never should have been uttered. What kinda fool makes a pact like that and doesn't put in the loophole about being able to throw some away "in the event the portion of Mac is BIGGER THAN MY HEAD."

The Mac engulfed me for what seemed like hours. The fork I fought the beast with soon turned to the "big" spoon, then, the small shovel you use to plant flowers, then the big shovel you use to remove trees...I shovelled the Mac in gloriuos gluttonous strides. I was determined that nothing was going to stop me...and nothing did.

I finished that box of Family Size Deluxe Mac. Why? Ain't no way the Mac is going to beat me!

SIDENOTE: I still feel the effects of the Mac. Maybe it did beat me after all. Is there a moral to all this? Yes. Never make a pact with the Mac!!