The ashes fell from what seemed to be the heavens above, peppering the ground as if seasoning this horrid beginning. She didn’t know what to think of such an awful place. People so thin and sickly, and the stench was terrible. But, that pepper from the skies…could it be? She had heard stories, but could not imagine such a cruel world. No, this was not hell. It was far worse—it was Auschwitz.
Life is sort of like eggs.
Sometimes you can clearly
see the sunny side.
Other times, everything gets
all scrambled up.
You just have to hope that
at the end of the day, you
have some pepper to help
you through the tough eggs.
The pepper spray hung from her hand, quite useless in this situation. I suppose that was to be expected when you were fighting something that wasn’t really there. The ghost moved silently around her, maybe since she couldn’t hurt it, it couldn’t hurt her, but still, it was unsettling.
It’s a faded piece of paper, and little else can be said about it, for it cannot even say anything for itself. From a distance, one would think it filled with minuscule handwriting, but the pattern across the page is actually a smattering of ink blotches. The cause is unknown: a mistake? A warning? A code? A forgotten memory?
It was bland yet disgusting. He lifted the eggs to his mouth. Not overcooked, but not undercooked either. Just right. They were golden-yellow, to match the light of the sun beaming on to his plate in the early morning. It was the perfect start to the day, yet something was missing. Salt, check. Cooked, check. Eggs, check. He reached for the tube and gave it a twist to add the sprinkling of pepper he needed to make it just right.
Some people love the stuff. I can take it or leave it. Sometimes it makes my throat catch – you know that place at the back there that catches on sharp flavors and causes face-purpling coughing fits? It does add flavor to some things, I’ll admit that: eggs, potatoes, veggies, even potato chips. Who knew?
“Really, pepper? Again? There’s nothing that can be made better with just pepper.” she grumbled.
“I personally believe that carrots, boiled water and pepper makes a delicious dish.”
“You lying bastard. You know I hate pepper.”
“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an incredible chef and you know it.”
“Bleh.” she stuck her tongue out at him from her position on the couch.
“And look at you, flopped on the couch like a….floppy thing.”
“Oh excellent description, floppy thing. You’re quite a wordsmith.” she snuggled into a corner of the couch and shut her eyes contentedly.
“Oh shut it.” he said. Her eyes shot open as he was there with a light kiss on her lips.
She smiled, “No you.”
He laughed and walked to the burner to make carrot and pepper soup.
I needed to spice up my social life. It was lacking majorly because I realized my friends weren’t real. They could drop me easily whenever necessary, so I dropped them too. But I had been bored, so I decided to go to the party. I needed to be reminded how much I hated people.
Pepper bacon. One cup of it. Now, if only Alice could remember that the next time she made this particular pizza. She had to get faster and more efficient. Or else she’d be stuck getting glared at for making mistakes…forever and ever.
Hmm…forever. That was an interestingly terrifying concept. Interminable pizza making. Pepperoni perpetuality. Forever of anything was scary to her, let alone an eternity with dead-end job that she sucked at.
Out of the corner of her eye Alice caught a glimpse of her boss’s orange shirt stalking towards her. Her heart gave a startled leap. No more daydreaming. There was no Forever. There was only Now.
Now and this pizza. Must finish this pizza.
Pepper bacon. One cup.
Peppered. That was the word for it. She had shown up, disappeared, over and over again, peppering his life with her.
Each time, he would greet her with a smile. But no, no, he wasn’t going to let her back in the next time she knocked. No, he wouldn’t let her continue to affect him like this. He was sick of the roller coaster. But he couldn’t. No.
Salt and pepper here and we’re in effect! Actually Salt n pepper isn’t here but their presence is felt. Through every funky empowered female rapper. Though she probably doesn’t notice, Nicki Minaj who has cited Missy Elliot as an influence, too has been influenced by salt n pepper. This is evident by her flamboyant and silly dance routines similar to those of Salt and pepper’s own during the 90s.
The pepper shaker was empty, again. Most people didn’t use a lot of pepper, but she liked to add some spice to everything, including her food. She shook the pepper shaker making sure it was empty before reuniting it with the salt. She didn’t like salt. You shook the salt over your food and you couldn’t tell that you’d put it on in the first place. Pepper, on the other hand, you could see.
Irvine loves to eat hot peppers. The longer his lips burn afterward, the better. He’s not satisfied unless his eyes are watering and his hair is soaked with sweat by the end of it.
Selphie’s completely okay with this until he inevitably ends up kissing her, touching her, or coming anywhere NEAR her with the vile things on his breath. That’s just gross.
The black gritty substance falling onto the counter and a cacophony of the shaker, orbs sliding within and colliding. I loved sitting on the counter and watching my mom, leaning over with a fierce look of concentration, pouring spices over the meats. Dinnertime was here.
i love the smell sometimes it hurts my nose but i don’t complain i know that sometimes my grandpa puts it on his chicken and steak that he grills outside also i remember the pepper from blue’s clues. i don’t think anyone likes pepper salt is the most competitive
It used to purchase countries, those special little corns.
They used to be something my dreams were made of, pink ones.
Now, they just try to spice up bland lives.
Pepper in my nose! It burns, it burns like a Brazilian wax in my nostrils. I decide to pour water up my nose. This doesn’t help much. My misery continues until its over. Its funny how terrible shit sometimes just goes away with time- no outside effort required.
honesty. self-admittedly a first world child—-buys into the concept of tea addiction like cigarettes (trades one bad habit for another like a thrift shop exchange, like there might be some loss in the absence of something bad)
dog sleeps on the floor like the only thing left to do is lie down; children play in the street like they know what it means to disregard the yellow lines, and from this far away, i can only hope they will preserve maps of our town in oversea metropolitan art museums, after the war.
red leather hits the tongue like a cracked salt shaker
spilling all over the counter
and blue rivers pour down her eyes
bittersweet sorrow mixed with fire in her mouth
closes her eyes, chews swallows
thinks about lost love, life and spice
Her salt and pepper hair fell over her face, dripping onto mine, tickling my nose with it’s coarseness. She pressed down on me, hissing and screaming, clawing and my face. I couldn’t break free of her mad strength.
She was addicted to pepper. She put it on everything. Even peanut butter and syrup sandwiches. She was a strange child, one no one could really pin down. Was she just eccentric? Did she have some disorder? Did her scribbles mean something dangerous or were they just scribbles? No one knew, and neither did she. But she knew she liked pepper.
I enjoy pepper. I don’t know why. It seems to make everything much more delicious. Could I have gotten along just fine without pepper? Well I like to believe that I could have. I don’t suppose we shall ever know though will we? Oh well, as long as I live I shall always enjoy pepper.
My eyes started to get heavy. I could feel the water pooling up inside. I looked up to the sky and blinked several times forcing the tears back. After several minutes I couldn’t take it anymore. The tears poured down my face like a leaky faucet. The words she said stung my heart, made it burn in pain; like eating a pepper that is much to spicy to handle. With her words she ripped my heart out, and basked in the glory of my reaction.
I grabbed all the spices I could grab out of the spice drawer! My In-laws were coming for their first meal with us and I was a nervous wreck!! I was making the world’s greatest apple pie, my new husband’s favorite. I had been in such a hurry and trying to pay attention, but somehow grabbed for the pepper shaker instead of the cinnamon. I tipped the shaker and and noticed what it was JUST as the lid dropped off spilling all the pepper into the pie filling! I was frozen in place and just started to shake as tears welled up, just about that same time I felt two familiar and loving arms wrap around my waist as an assurance fell from his lips…”it’s ok, Marnie…I can run to the bakery and they’ll never know the difference.”
hot peppers, sweet peppers, yellow, orange and green peppers.
The ashes fell from what seemed to be the heavens above, peppering the ground as if seasoning this horrid beginning. She didn’t know what to think of such an awful place. People so thin and sickly, and the stench was terrible. But, that pepper from the skies…could it be? She had heard stories, but could not imagine such a cruel world. No, this was not hell. It was far worse—it was Auschwitz.
Life is sort of like eggs.
Sometimes you can clearly
see the sunny side.
Other times, everything gets
all scrambled up.
You just have to hope that
at the end of the day, you
have some pepper to help
you through the tough eggs.
I never had a pepper shaker. I wish I had one. There’s so many things I wish I had. But then again, I’m contented with what I have.
Pepper, salt – al the things that she ever needed with her food during the last days of her life. She was unable to use much else.
The pepper spray hung from her hand, quite useless in this situation. I suppose that was to be expected when you were fighting something that wasn’t really there. The ghost moved silently around her, maybe since she couldn’t hurt it, it couldn’t hurt her, but still, it was unsettling.
It’s a faded piece of paper, and little else can be said about it, for it cannot even say anything for itself. From a distance, one would think it filled with minuscule handwriting, but the pattern across the page is actually a smattering of ink blotches. The cause is unknown: a mistake? A warning? A code? A forgotten memory?
Adding black pepper to a dish can make a world of a difference. Try it with your favorite foods.
it just gets better. Pepper even worse. I mean who has a visionary moment or anything noteworthy with pepper at its center? Really?
It was bland yet disgusting. He lifted the eggs to his mouth. Not overcooked, but not undercooked either. Just right. They were golden-yellow, to match the light of the sun beaming on to his plate in the early morning. It was the perfect start to the day, yet something was missing. Salt, check. Cooked, check. Eggs, check. He reached for the tube and gave it a twist to add the sprinkling of pepper he needed to make it just right.
Give me a little pepper
With that bland tuna salad.
Hurry up there lady or
D’you want me to write a ballad?
Pepper Ann, Pepper Ann, Pepper Pepper Pepper Ann
I guess I’m uninspired today
Some people love the stuff. I can take it or leave it. Sometimes it makes my throat catch – you know that place at the back there that catches on sharp flavors and causes face-purpling coughing fits? It does add flavor to some things, I’ll admit that: eggs, potatoes, veggies, even potato chips. Who knew?
“Really, pepper? Again? There’s nothing that can be made better with just pepper.” she grumbled.
“I personally believe that carrots, boiled water and pepper makes a delicious dish.”
“You lying bastard. You know I hate pepper.”
“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an incredible chef and you know it.”
“Bleh.” she stuck her tongue out at him from her position on the couch.
“And look at you, flopped on the couch like a….floppy thing.”
“Oh excellent description, floppy thing. You’re quite a wordsmith.” she snuggled into a corner of the couch and shut her eyes contentedly.
“Oh shut it.” he said. Her eyes shot open as he was there with a light kiss on her lips.
She smiled, “No you.”
He laughed and walked to the burner to make carrot and pepper soup.
Awwwwe. I really miss Mrs. And Mr. Pepper. They were such a random oCcurance.
I needed to spice up my social life. It was lacking majorly because I realized my friends weren’t real. They could drop me easily whenever necessary, so I dropped them too. But I had been bored, so I decided to go to the party. I needed to be reminded how much I hated people.
Pepper bacon. One cup of it. Now, if only Alice could remember that the next time she made this particular pizza. She had to get faster and more efficient. Or else she’d be stuck getting glared at for making mistakes…forever and ever.
Hmm…forever. That was an interestingly terrifying concept. Interminable pizza making. Pepperoni perpetuality. Forever of anything was scary to her, let alone an eternity with dead-end job that she sucked at.
Out of the corner of her eye Alice caught a glimpse of her boss’s orange shirt stalking towards her. Her heart gave a startled leap. No more daydreaming. There was no Forever. There was only Now.
Now and this pizza. Must finish this pizza.
Pepper bacon. One cup.
Peppered. That was the word for it. She had shown up, disappeared, over and over again, peppering his life with her.
Each time, he would greet her with a smile. But no, no, he wasn’t going to let her back in the next time she knocked. No, he wouldn’t let her continue to affect him like this. He was sick of the roller coaster. But he couldn’t. No.
Salt and pepper here and we’re in effect! Actually Salt n pepper isn’t here but their presence is felt. Through every funky empowered female rapper. Though she probably doesn’t notice, Nicki Minaj who has cited Missy Elliot as an influence, too has been influenced by salt n pepper. This is evident by her flamboyant and silly dance routines similar to those of Salt and pepper’s own during the 90s.
The pepper shaker was empty, again. Most people didn’t use a lot of pepper, but she liked to add some spice to everything, including her food. She shook the pepper shaker making sure it was empty before reuniting it with the salt. She didn’t like salt. You shook the salt over your food and you couldn’t tell that you’d put it on in the first place. Pepper, on the other hand, you could see.
Pass it
Pass wot?
She pointed, a flailing limp-wrist-ed gesture which took in the entire landscape of the table. Dirty dishes, used utensils and condiments galore.
Wot?
The not salt
He lifted the pepper and his left eye brow, and with a frustrated sigh she snatched it from his hand
Thanks
Irvine loves to eat hot peppers. The longer his lips burn afterward, the better. He’s not satisfied unless his eyes are watering and his hair is soaked with sweat by the end of it.
Selphie’s completely okay with this until he inevitably ends up kissing her, touching her, or coming anywhere NEAR her with the vile things on his breath. That’s just gross.
The black gritty substance falling onto the counter and a cacophony of the shaker, orbs sliding within and colliding. I loved sitting on the counter and watching my mom, leaning over with a fierce look of concentration, pouring spices over the meats. Dinnertime was here.
i love the smell sometimes it hurts my nose but i don’t complain i know that sometimes my grandpa puts it on his chicken and steak that he grills outside also i remember the pepper from blue’s clues. i don’t think anyone likes pepper salt is the most competitive
pepper is one of the spices.. it can also be a name.. a very nice one at that.. one of my friends’ dog’s name is pepper.
It used to purchase countries, those special little corns.
They used to be something my dreams were made of, pink ones.
Now, they just try to spice up bland lives.
It burns in my lungs like fire, attacking me from the inside out.
I try to cough, but can’t.
I inhale, I choke, I suffocate.
Pepper in my nose! It burns, it burns like a Brazilian wax in my nostrils. I decide to pour water up my nose. This doesn’t help much. My misery continues until its over. Its funny how terrible shit sometimes just goes away with time- no outside effort required.
honesty. self-admittedly a first world child—-buys into the concept of tea addiction like cigarettes (trades one bad habit for another like a thrift shop exchange, like there might be some loss in the absence of something bad)
when it cracks, I am frightened but I know that I need it
I’m so sick of the dullness, I am no longer intrigued
I turn it over
and watch it fall
everywhere makes me sneeze and makes me wheeze but most importantly helps me enjoy my morning eggs much more than I usually would.
dog sleeps on the floor like the only thing left to do is lie down; children play in the street like they know what it means to disregard the yellow lines, and from this far away, i can only hope they will preserve maps of our town in oversea metropolitan art museums, after the war.
red leather hits the tongue like a cracked salt shaker
spilling all over the counter
and blue rivers pour down her eyes
bittersweet sorrow mixed with fire in her mouth
closes her eyes, chews swallows
thinks about lost love, life and spice
She crumbled onto her bed and screamed for hours on end when he left. The rafters rattled, the bed creaked, and the neighbors complained.
It seems that pepper is merely cantankerous in the absence of salt.
Hot stuff.
Her salt and pepper hair fell over her face, dripping onto mine, tickling my nose with it’s coarseness. She pressed down on me, hissing and screaming, clawing and my face. I couldn’t break free of her mad strength.
She was addicted to pepper. She put it on everything. Even peanut butter and syrup sandwiches. She was a strange child, one no one could really pin down. Was she just eccentric? Did she have some disorder? Did her scribbles mean something dangerous or were they just scribbles? No one knew, and neither did she. But she knew she liked pepper.
I enjoy pepper. I don’t know why. It seems to make everything much more delicious. Could I have gotten along just fine without pepper? Well I like to believe that I could have. I don’t suppose we shall ever know though will we? Oh well, as long as I live I shall always enjoy pepper.
My eyes started to get heavy. I could feel the water pooling up inside. I looked up to the sky and blinked several times forcing the tears back. After several minutes I couldn’t take it anymore. The tears poured down my face like a leaky faucet. The words she said stung my heart, made it burn in pain; like eating a pepper that is much to spicy to handle. With her words she ripped my heart out, and basked in the glory of my reaction.
I grabbed all the spices I could grab out of the spice drawer! My In-laws were coming for their first meal with us and I was a nervous wreck!! I was making the world’s greatest apple pie, my new husband’s favorite. I had been in such a hurry and trying to pay attention, but somehow grabbed for the pepper shaker instead of the cinnamon. I tipped the shaker and and noticed what it was JUST as the lid dropped off spilling all the pepper into the pie filling! I was frozen in place and just started to shake as tears welled up, just about that same time I felt two familiar and loving arms wrap around my waist as an assurance fell from his lips…”it’s ok, Marnie…I can run to the bakery and they’ll never know the difference.”