Nathan and I were in charge of making supper tonight. (We make dinner every Thursday, and Amanda and Joshua cook on Friday.) Nathan very much wanted potato soup, so I agreed. The soup turned out alright. The biscuits, however, were a deep shade of brown when I removed them from the oven. The texture seemed fine, so we were hopeful that we hadn't overdone them too badly. A single bite, with its burned aftertaste, changed our minds. Most of us managed to choke ours down with a heap of jelly and a lot of drama. A scene from the movie The War, also involving burned biscuits, came to mind...
"Just pretend you're a starving Indian and this is the last bite of food between you and death. And you got into a fight over it with another starving Indian and it fell into the fire and got burned."
Nathan and I decided that we'd rather give our biscuits to the neighboring tribe and let them die from eating them. Then we can take all their food.
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