Four Days, More Forks

Four days until Twelve Two Two Fondue II. Here’s the blueprint:

It’s a party!

You’re all invited!

Yes, everyone. All of you. Even you who are reading this now.

Fondue Party
Twelve Two Two Fondue II
December 22, 2005
7pm local time
At Your House
RSVP 12tutufondue

Send me pictures and descriptions of your party as it’s happening and I’ll post them on the site throughout the day. Here’s the address:

12tutufondue

“How many people have you invited for Thursday?”

“Uh, I dunno. A few?”

“What’s ‘a few?’”

“Well,” counting fast on fingers, “a dozen or couple of dozen?” I searched for the proper spin to this, “Give or take a couple of twenty. Or so.”

“I see,” said the Practical One, “and how many fondue forks do we have? Maybe 6 or 8?”

Being short of fondue forks was not so much a miscalculation as a little problem that ripened all too quickly. Fondue forks. Everybody sells fondue forks. Dime a dozen.

Or not.

It turns out that nobody sells fondue forks outside of an entire fondue set. Ratso rizzo, I was already thinking of how I could convince the Practical One that toothpicks could substitute as fine fondue forks. Very fine, indeed.

Then a little shop caught my eye. Coffee, Tea and Kitchen Stuff. An obscure specialty kitchen supply store.

I pulled in.

Entering the store I was greeted by a tall, bearded man wearing a chef’s apron and sporting a name tag that read:

Wolfgang

Obviously, I was fixated on the name tag because “Wolfgang’s” first words were:

“You’re wondering if my name is really Wolfgang, as in Wolfgang Puck, yes?”

“Yes,” I wimpered.

“Ah, I thought so. Wolfgang is not my name, it’s Ed, but it’s curious how many people come in the store, take one look at my name tag and walk straight out.” Ed paused. “Since you’re still here you must be desparate.”

I nodded.

“Well, what is it? Fruitcake tin? Jell-O mold? Perhaps a spatula?”

I pulled myself together, looked “Ed” in the eye and said, “Fondue forks. Lots and lots of fondue forks. Enough for all of Switzerland.”


Ed was taken aback. He had met a worthy opponent.

“Fondue forks? Hmmm, normally they don’t sell them outside of fondue sets. You wouldn’t be interested in a couple of hundred fondue sets would you?”

Not even resembling Bill Gates I replied, “No, I wouldn’t. If you don’t sell the forks stand-alone, I’ll just leave and go to Target. I’m sure they’ve got an entire Fondue Fork Department.”

I could tell Ed was shocked and embarrassed. Target! Fie on Target! A pox on Target! From the bowels of Hell I reach out and stab thee in the heart Target!

Ed breathed heavily, collected himself, brushed down his chef’s apron and mumbled something about “checking in the back.”

After much rattling around and clattering, boxes being ripped open and cursing, a much disheveled Ed returned with a plastic bag filled with fondue forks.

“Here,” he said and handed me the bag.

I looked inside and there must have been a hundred fondue forks. I asked, “So, what do I owe?”

“Nothing,” Ed replied, “today is Fondue Fork Day. All forks free. Yours. Go forth and multiply or whatever.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

As I moseyed out the door a lady entered, went up to Ed and asked if they sold fondue sets.

“Yes, we do,” Ed replied to her, he paused and looked in my direction, “but the forks are extra.”

I beat a hasty retreat.