THE TROUBLE WITH FOOD
By Pegbronco
Starsky sat at his desk. His leg leisurely hung over the edge of the corner of the desk. He sat enjoying the beef burrito.
"You know Starsk…when they do your autopsy, their going to find a petrified beef burrito."
"Uhmm. With onions."
Hutch snorted from his side of the desk.
Starsky looked over at his partner. Suddenly he sat up. There across from him Hutch was turning a sickly shade of green.
"Hutch? You alright buddy? Your turning green."
As he sat and watched, Hutch slowly turned greener. His head started to enlarge. His arms grew out longer. Suddenly there in front of him, his best friend in the world had turned into a large head of broccoli.
Starsky closed his eyes. He knew that it couldn't be real. He opened his eyes. The broccoli reached out towards him. He stood suddenly, toppling over his chair. He turned and there in the doorway to the captain's office was a large slice of Devil's Food cake.
"Starsky what's wrong with you?" the gruff voice of his captain came from the cake.
He turned and suddenly out in front of him, what was once officers of the law, were pies, cakes, tacos, donuts. An assortment of lunch goodies. Hot dogs, fries, onion rings. He ran to the door, the tall head of broccoli chasing after him.
In the hall way he bumped into a meatball dragging a string of linguine, leaving a trail of sauce behind it. The noodle yelling that it was innocent. A fork and spoon rushed by him.
"It's all a dream. Got to wake up." He shut his eyes tight. "Just a dream. Just a dream."
Suddenly his stomach and head felt as they were trading places. A wave of nausea hit him. He opened his eyes. He was laying on his back looking up to grey clouds. They were raining down powdered sugar.
He sat up. He was in a small dingy that looked like a pastry cup. He was adrift in an ocean of dark liquid, Root Beer. The mast of his small boat was a straw. The sails made of pastry paper. Out in the ocean of soda, were burgs of vanilla and chocolate ice cream.
He felt a huge wave lift his small ship up then quickly dropped back down. The seasickness engulfed him.
He closed his eyes tightly once again. "Wake Up! Got to wake up."
Suddenly he felt as if his body was on fire. He slowly opened his eyes. He found himself sitting surrounded by cut up pieces of potatoes, carrots, and a large pot roast. The air was hotter then hell. Panic, he climbed out of the pot and banged on the oven door.
"LET ME OUT!" He screamed and pounded his fists on the heated metal door. "I swear I'll Be good. PLEASE LET ME OUT!" He shut his eyes tight once more.
"It's just a dream. Got to wake up. Please just let me wake up."
He suddenly felt something ice cold on his face, neck and chest. He slowly opened his eyes.
There standing over him, the broccoli was spreading ice cream on him. It was so cold it felt like he was being burned.
"NO! Please stop. Please no more," he begged. He felt exhausted. The strength in him now gone. He closed his eyes once again. Scared of what will be there when he opens them again.
Off in the distance he could hear someone calling him. Hutch. But wait, Hutch was Hutch anymore. He felt a familiar caress on his cheek. He couldn't help it, he slowly opened his eyes.
He looked up into the blue eyes of his friend and partner. The big blond smiled down at him.
"Your not green broccoli." Starsky coughed up to him.
"No babe." Hutch had a big smile on his face. "But you're a pretty shade of green. You have the flu, remember?" Hutch threaded his long fingers through wet ebony curls.
"Hutch?"
"Yeah buddy?"
"I don't want a burrito today."
"That's good, 'cause your only getting chicken soup."
END