WHEN PIGS FLY; A Community Story

All the makings of a very boring and unadventurous class field trip, or was it?

I knew why we were really here, though. Otherwise, why would the chaperones be wearing chef's hats? Why else would they be unloading boxes full of cutting-boards, knives, saucepans, stock-pans, roasting pans pots, kettles, Dutch-ovens, whisks, and hundreds of spoons to boot? the profusion of culinary paraphernalia could only mean one thing: WAR.

As we neared the inner gates of the ancient temple, sweat still streaming down our faces, I knew what vile enemy threatened these sacred ruins, and why it was up to St. Mary's Seniors to protect the mystical Gates of Gadash that lay hidden in this inner sanctum. It was a portal to another dimension, and a gateway which the fiends had used to infiltrate into our world.

Once we had entered the enclosure into the ancient temple's front gardens, Mr. Sage and Ms. Solecki turned to face us, each donning a white chef's hat. Mr. Sage held a butcher's knife, while Ms. Solecki brandished a large rolling pin.

"Oh, girls!" she bellowed, waving her rolling-pin, "seniors of St. Mary, it's true we have not told you the real reason for this field-trip. This is the time, my pupils, when you take up the mantle of adulthood and bring all of your skills to play!"

As she gesticulated, absurd mounds of kitchen equipment were being piled in their crates all around us.

"Girls, today we make war with a very fatty foe..." Mr. Sage's butcher knife flashed in the sun as he spoke, so feebly and slowly we could barely understand him:

"A ferocious horde of seasoned Charcuterie, headed by a war-hardened division of mercenary Chitterlings, has just passed the inter-dimensional portal of the Gates of Gadash. They mean to do war on the human race. They have brought with them all the foul legions of sausagerie baconated with ham and haggis-officers you could imagine, ranged in martial array with their thick casings. And they feed themselves cannibalistically on Spam."

The girls gasped at this revelation, while crates of cheese, olives, pickles, fresh fruit, dried fruit, nuts and berries were hauled out.

Ms. Solecki began pounding the air with her rolling-pin, damn near shouting:

"But you, fearless alumni of St. Mary's, who we have taught the culinary arts, will vanquish these greasy intestinal mincemeat bananas, standing so cocksure in their casings. This is what your entire lives have been leading up to: I know your courage and strength, but beware! When the armies of chitterlings, andouilles, and other sausagelings are mortally wounded in fight, they prostrate themselves on the ground and pray a strange prayer. No sooner are the words uttered when, lo and behold! from the eastern horizon, on wings of lapis-lazuli, with eyes of carbuncle, a body of silver and hooves of brass, a great big giant huge enormous gargantuan hog swoops over the battlefield with its agile wings. With a mighty OINK that will shake these temple walls, squirting great quantities of mustard over the wounded mess of charcuterie and healing their wounds completely."

It was now that the skirmish was really approaching because spices galore were being hauled into the walled gardens of the ruined temple: sage, rosemary, thyme, pepper (salt goes without saying), lovage, galingale, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, allspice, grains of paradise, marjoram, bay leaf, rue, oregano, juniper berries, mace, anise, nutmeg, and a few others I forget the names of.

The girls of St. Mary's gasped as they saw the legions of fearsome sausages etc. emerging from every egress of the crumbling ruins, leaving trails of grease in their march that were visible even at this distance.

I stood up in front of everyone, wanting to set a good example for my classmates; so I doffed a colander on my cap like a battle-helmet and seized a wooden spoon.

"These forcemeat fillers are no match for us! You know what they say, once a kielbasa, always a kielbasa, a treacherous and double-crossing creature. Stay with your group girls, with your chaperone. We are Cooks, foodies of St. Mary's. Get ready for some rad mad meat-mincing mayhem!"