Once upon a time, there was a most magical Queen and King of Hospitality, living in the bodaciously gorgeous wine region of West County.
Let’s call them “Bonnie” and “Zinc.”
One glorious Saturday morning when they were hosting some poor commoners from the South Bay, Bonnie waved her magic spoon around the kitchen for a few minutes, and…
… poof!
Out of the oven came the most wonderful and fragrant brunch dish. And as the aroma wafted throughout the castle and out into the kingdom through the kitchen window, there was great rejoicing in the land.
Bonnie waved her magic spoon again, and…
… poof!
There appeared on the picnic table a delightful array of beautiful linens…
… and ice-cold champagne in exquisite mystery stemware…
… a chunky white-fish spread and hunks of warm, fresh baguette…
… sweet succulent melon, a dainty strawberry-laced salad…
… and one enchanted prince from a far-away land who had been turned into a teeny, tiny frog by a wicked winery owner. *
Seeing Bonnie’s kind and somewhat startled face, the frog hopped out from his hiding place under the butter dish.
“Please,” said the frog. “I smelled your magical baked eggs and if I could have just one bite, I would turn back into a prince!”
Zinc, being the benevolent befriender of all things small and slimy, quickly picked up his own magic wand and cut into the eggs.
They were in-freaking-credible, and indeed, magical.
For as soon as the smell of the eggs, sausage, nutmeg, fresh herbs, and cheeses hit their noses, the four diners began to salivate and pay close attention to the accurate division of the dish into four exactly equal servings.
The moment the portions hit the plate and were joined by the salad, bread, champagne, etc., the people began to eat with much moaning and table banging and exclamations of ecstasy.
And they were all very, very happy.
Everyone, that is, except the frog, for in their enthusiasm and delight, they had completely forgotten about him and his plea for help.
The End.
*It was actually the wicked winery owner’s apprentice, the evil wedding DJ, who did the dirty work. He bet young Prince Bob, who was there for the wedding and was a tad tipsy from all the festivities, that he couldn’t say “Funky pumpin’ Monkey Punkin” three times quickly without biting his tongue. Of course, everyone knows that NO ONE can do that, and when the poor prince failed… poof!
Bob’s yer frog.