Stuck with Lucky, Short-Necked Stubby
It's Thursday. Pasta night.
Sugo simmers in the pot all day.
The doorbell rings.
Shirley's here for beer and
a plate of Mamma Pina's pasta.
She wafts in, hair coiffed,
smells of fresh perfume, a hint of
hairspray and stale smoke.
Cigarette glows between her nails,
showing off her recent manicure.
Oh, Peter, good to see you.
Thought I'd come by for a visit.
Oh look at the time, you are just about to eat –
The Italian Mamma in the house
is polite, has to do what's right,
offers her guest some food.
Pete grumbles under his breath.
He won't relinquish his homemade wine
so orders the youngest to go get Shirley
He figures this 'mangia cake' won't understand the
sacrilege of beer and pasta.
The youngest returns to the kitchen.
Steam rises from pasta plates set.
Shirley sits at the head.
Ah, Lucky beer, my favourite.