Response to the Meatloaf Incident

You may recall my recent post about the Meatloaf Incident of 1988, and my story of survival.  My sister (the villain) happened upon my account of this tragedy, and wanted to share her side of the story.  Where the truth lies?  We may never know . . .

Such drama, such intrigue, such ..... lies! In truth, it was not a slice of dogloaf, but a delicious homemade cookie from the kitchen of Jane Doe*  that I so selflessly shared with my one sister.  

Mrs. Doe had just whipped up a fresh batch when we were entered her home. Imagine our disappointment when we learned that her hubby, John Doe*, was taking nearly all of the precious morsels to a scouting activity later that evening. Only 7 cookies remained after he plundered the treasure trove of taste. 

Jane had promised Amy and I, as well as each of her 4 children, a cookie, with one remaining for herself. We would be rewarded the sweet treat after we finished the aforetomentioned dogloaf. Being the extremely picky eater that Amy was, she remained at the table, refusing to eat the strange invention that is meat in bread form. As an act of solidarity, I remained with her, having finished my serving of Alpo ages ago, a cookie resting quietly on the napkin before me. 

Suddenly, in a fit of what can only be described as rabid rage, the Doe's albino bunny rounded the corner of the kitchen entrance, jumped up on the table, and in one second had devoured Amy's remaining foodstuffs. As soon as it happened, it was over (as things often are after they happen). We were left stunned, shocked and fearing for our very lives. Within moments Jane came in the kitchen, took one look at Amy and her empty plate, and one look at the villianous rabbit and frowned. "I see you've fed your portion of my delicious delicacy to the rabbit. There will be no cookie for you after all." And with that, she picked up the last remaining cookie and shoved it in her mouth, emitting a loud cackle and giving Amy a glare that only Mr. Barrow could rival. 

I watched as Amy, heartbroken and cookieless, began to emit large, wailing sobs. Robbed of dinner, dessert and her very dignity (it seemed), she was inconsolable. It was then that I made a selfless decision that would come to haunt me the rest of my precious life. I lifted my prized possession and handed it to my grieving sister. "Here Amy" I said. "You take it. I know how much Jane's cookies mean to you. They mean so very much to me." Amy stopped wailing, looked at me with eyes brim with tears and said "You mean, you'd do that for me?" We embraced and the cookie was soon eaten. "I'll never forget what you did for me, MoEsha*. You truly are the best big sister that a girl could have." 

The rest of the evening was a blur. I remember that Amy followed me around like a puppy dog, refusing to leave my side. She thanked me again and again. Years (4) of tension and teasing and jealousy had been healed. We were starting anew. We were kindred spirits. Nothing could get in our way.

Within a few hours, our parents arrived, graciously thanked a still fuming Jane, and buckled us in our car seats. Amy and I held hands in the back seat. "How was dinner?" they asked, warily. "Did you eat ALL your food?" Amy turned to me, smiled and replied "MoEsha made me eat all her meatloaf and then stole my cookie!"

*Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent