The elliptical Ravioli hit Bob’s Funny Bone with a phlump. Bob‘ was already laughing like a blunted Buddha, while blinded by the blue cheese, mushrooms, pumpkin, artichoke and Tomato sauce glossing his facial features and beard like chunks of JFK’s noggin’ when Hugh Montague probably gave the go ahead to the Dealy Lama.
Bob’s Hand pushed down on snake shaped latch firing the Lasagna cannon. Droplets of the rusty red tomato sauce spraying Bob’s beard again, as the lasagna levitated skyward. Kurt is at the other end of the kitchen peeping through his extraordinarily decorated periscope next to the cooker.
“Lasagna” cheers Bob, rejoycing.
“Ravioli” Kurt replies with a roar, firing his ravioli catapult while thinking how Bob’s face looked like some kind of wombat that had been feeding on red fruit, covered in all that Ravioli and sauce.
“Keep the Lasagna levitating.” sings Bob to the tune of Auld Lang Syne and licking his red lips with glee like a cat licking cream off his long whiskers.
“Keep the Ravioli in Orbit. So it goes and goes.” Kurt echoed with a passionate and equal sincerity.
Leaning in through the Kitchen window, looking over Bob’s shoulder, Norman hands Bob a Mouth Organ with a note attached that reads:
‘Lasagna’ derived from the Greek.
‘Lasanon’ meaning ‘chamber pot’
‘Ravioli’ from Italian verb ‘Ravvolgere’ meaning ‘to wrap’
‘Lasagne al forno’ – oven-cooked Lasagne. –Norman
Kurt notices Norman’s multi colored T-shirt that reads: “Auld Lasagna!…established by Francisco di Marco of Prato: 1408 e.v.
“Oh, to be outside this kitchen with Norman! Spinach and minced meat in myface and these Lasagna projectiles are hot as hell.” Kurt bawled, wiping Bob’s sauce from his lovley big droopy eyes.
“Loseyns’ Trajectories Modified, Commence launch. RAW Lasagna!” Bob said, with a nasal accent satirizing some strange mission control centre.
Kurt watches Bob entertaining himself, covered in cheese n’ spinach, Tomato and pasta flakes, laughing in the slime, playful like a free infant.
“Chinese ravioli and tortellini collectively, are often referred to as Italian jiaozi, according to uncle EZ.“ Bob said, with bad Santa’s smile.
“A Sufi that i once met called ravioli manti, Chogyam Trungpa refers to them as Momo, Ginsberg told me about the Jewish Kreplach, and Schroedinger called em Maultaschen.” Bob added. Kurt and Norman both watching the Ravioli sauce dripping off his chin like luminescent volcanic lavafalls.
Bob moves his fingers from the catapult latch and quickly wipes the cosmic ragu debris from his chin and beard again as if psychically responding to Kurt’s observation. Kurt looked like he’d seen ghost and Bob looked like a cross between a Chinese Mystic and an auld Irish Bard from Siriusauce.
Fly Agaric 23.