Burnt Spaghetti Novels & Stories

“Spaghetti has a ribbon! And a gold name tag. Papi said he’ll make him a passport too!” Zane grinned. “If we travel abroad, we can’t leave a family member behind, right?” I nearly ripped my shoe off and threw the heel at his pretty face. Zane shrugged like he’d read my mind. “I fed him. He’s happy. Not hurt. Not kidnapped. Just... upgraded.” “Upgraded?” I ground my teeth. “Emotionally. Spiritually. Also there was gold ice cream. Check the receipt.” Ash spun again, the cat a flying puppet. “Spaghetti likes the balcony! He climbed the chair and watched the birds! Then he peed in Aunt Maritza’s bag!”

I smiled and said, "That's why you put all the hot sauce on it and mix it or however you want, to eat it. The sauce is really hot so be careful you don't burn your tongue." I put some spaghetti on my plate using the spaghetti rake like I'd been taught since I was a little girl and then smothered it with plenty of sauce. I picked up the additional spices and sprinkled some on top of my meal and offered them to spike after I used them. He put some on his spaghetti and passed them to snake. I told them, "We don't have an Italian bread so, the regular bread will have to do for tonight. I'll get a loaf the next time we go to town so you can try that too."

“Then they’re stupid. Can I finish this last portion or do you want some more?” His lips twitched as he handed over the bowl. “Be my guest.” She fought a groan as the spicy tomato sauce danced on her tongue. “Maya, what’s going on with your bookstore expansion?” The strand of spaghetti caught in her throat and she choked. He flew up from the chair and began pounding on her back, but she shook him off and guzzled a few mouthfuls of water. The poem flashed in mocking horror past her vision. Oh, the tangled web we weave, when first we first practice to deceive…

Liana whispered loudly behind her napkin, “Someone’s blushing.” Slade kicked her under the table. She yelped. Margo clapped once. “Dinner!” She set a plate in front steaming and delicious spaghetti and meatballs in front of mel. Then she put a plate in front of Slade. Burnt. Black. Charred. He stared at it. Then at her. “Mother.” “Yes, darling?” “Is my dinner… smoking?” “That’s flavor.” “It’s carbon.” “Same thing.”

Fumbling with the cardboard tab, I poured the spaghetti in all at once, some of it sticking out of the pot like awkward antennae. “Come on,” I grumbled, pushing the stiff noodles down with a wooden spoon. The spoon slipped, splashing hot water onto the counter and my arm. “Ow! Damn it.” I glanced at the timer on my phone. The recipe said eight minutes for al dente, but I couldn’t tell if the spaghetti was cooking evenly. Stirring was supposed to help, right? Just as I leaned over the pot, the bacon grease caught up with me. The smell of smoke hit my nose, and I spun around to see wisps curling up from the pan.

I made sure to put the water for the spaghetti on fire before leaving so that once she is done with the sauce she can help me with the spaghetti in. It was my turn to pick out a movie to watch, I didn’t want anything romantic so I picked John Wick, an action movie is what we need. After thirty minutes everything was done. Bella served everyone and we sat in the dining room. “Bella this is amazing.” “Straight out of grandma’s recipe book.” She laughs. “If your grandma was here I would kiss her,” Vicky says. “She is straight,” Mia says which made me almost choke on my spaghetti. The fuck.

Our Maddox sticks out his tongue, before shaking his head in a disgusted yet playful manner. “Great! I don’t eat broccoli too,” Braxton says. “What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” “Sweet spaghetti!” our Maddox replies in a heartbeat, raising his arms enthusiastically. “A sweet spaghetti?” Braxton repeats. Our Maddox nods with a beam on his little face. “Alright then, you'll have sweet spaghetti for breakfast!” Braxton guarantees, as if that dish can usually be found in a cafeteria. After driving through several cafeterias, I’ve proven my assumption right - not a single of them has sweet spaghetti on their menu. As a result, Braxton orders one in a Filipino fastfood chain first, before drivi

"Fix spaghetti Bolognese. Don’t use red pepper flakes—use black pepper instead. Can you do that?" “Perfectly, Mrs. Cargill," Melissa replied with an awkward smile, scratching the back of her neck. “Alright. See you when I get back," Mrs. Cargill said as she walked out. The moment she left, Melissa threw the cleaning rag onto the table. “Damn it!" she exclaimed, stamping her feet in frustration. “You’ve lost a home again, Mel. I can’t cook! Why did I have to lie? Spaghetti Bolognese? I don’t even have my phone—how do I figure this out now?" She sank onto the couch, hissing and cursing herself for not learning to cook from her mother.

“Let’s get you fed woman, I think you are going crazy. And we all know that after crazy comes hangry and no one wants that.” *** The food was amazing. “This.” I slurped up a long piece of spaghetti. “Is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in a long long time.” Ruins eyes blazed in his head. His full lips pouting. “Is that right? The best thing you have had in your mouth in a long time huh?” His foot hooked under the chair I was sitting on, he pulled me forward with a loud scraping sound. Smiling at him coyly I fluttered my lashes. “It’s the garlic…”

Liam stands there in silent horror while Emily and I plate up spaghetti and garlic bread, proud as can be. “This,” I announce, setting his plate in front of him with a flourish, “is love on a plate.” “It’s something on a plate,” he mutters, but he still takes a bite. Emily watches him like her life depends on it. “Do you like it?” His jaw works slowly as he chews. “It’s… fine.” “Fine?” I gasp. “That is not fine spaghetti. That’s magic spaghetti. That’s joy spaghetti.” “It’s a little heavy on the garlic,” he says, completely missing the point.