Nov15

fruitcakes.

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i came face to face with this colorful display

and was struck with a sudden terror

for i knew

 this was

a sure sign that

the fruitcakes were on their way.

—

 

“a sharp bolt of hunger hit luther hard. his knees almost buckled, his poker face almost grimaced. for two weeks now his sense of smell had been much keener, no doubt a side effect of a strict diet. maybe he got a whiff of mabel’s finest, he wasn’t sure, but a craving came over him. suddenly, he had to have something to eat. suddenly, he wanted to snatch the bag from kendall, rip open a package, and start gnawing on a fruitcake.”
― John Grisham

54 responses »

  8. My other half and son love them. It was always a big thing in our house Xmas eve. Home from midnight mass and they all dug into the cake it had taken my mum weeks to bake. I had a biscuit. Always felt I was missing out.

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  19. Reminds me of the time I watched my brother naively devour one of my grandmother’s homemade fruitcakes—her first attempt—when he was around twelve and I was a mere four. To me, it smelled funny and looked worse. It was even wrinkly and gross. So even though I loved sweets, I made a face and passed. My grandmother, bless her heart, was not the best cook or baker so…it didn’t go well for my poor, trusting brother. I then had to watch him puke his brains out for the rest of the night. I felt SO sorry for him trusting grandma’s culinary skills like that. But I learned a valuable lesson. Always trust your instincts, especially when it’s about an overly-hyped bunch of dried fruits clinging to the top like they’ve been glued there. If you were worried about my grandmother’s feelings, she was a good sport. The next morning she promised us all she’d never again bake one and tore up the recipe. From there, she stuck to perfecting baking her pecan pies. Everyone wins. Yum!!

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