ESPRESSO TALES #1 - Immigrant Song
There was a tremor and a loud thump outside.
Murmured conversations ceased. Silence and tension took their place.
In the darkness very faintly a sound grew, a high pitched chattering.
'Puta Madre! Chick Peas!' hissed one of the largest Kidney Beans. 'A shopper has picked up Chick Peas and put them back in our frontage!'
Uproar. Beans turned and twisted in agitation passing rumour around the tin.
'Quiet! Quiet!' the large bean bellowed.
The hubbub died down.
'What can you hear Old Father?' The large bean had leaned slightly toward a small bent companion who rested near the side of the can which was closest to the chattering.
'I cannot understand much of it' replied the old bean slowly. 'They are excited and a little afraid.'
Later that evening as the store was emptying a young bean who had wriggled to his mother, thanks to several people checking their label for salt content, curled close to her and whispered 'Mama, why doesn't Papa like Chick Peas?'
'He says they are a simply a utility pulse dear' 'He finds them dull and overrated'
'But Mama, does he also dislike the Lima beans who are on our other side?'
'He thinks the Lima beans are snobbish. They seldom mix with us. They are rather stuck up by all accounts'.
'And the Adzuki beans above us?'
'They keep themselves to themselves ...they are inscrutable but no trouble'.
'What is the noise the chick peas are making Mama?'
'They are singing.'
The little bean nestled closer. 'Mama, what are they singing?'
'They sing of griefa sad song for the loss of their friends and their homeland and they wonder if they shall ever see them again.'
'Does Papa not like the singing?' asked her son, peeking gingerly past her at his scowling father.
'No he does not. We do not harmonize when we sing so he does not see why they should.'
The young bean settled himself next to his mother and listened intently.
'It's kind of beautiful though' he yawned. 'Goodnight Mama'
He slept and, although he had no way of knowing it, he dreamed of the Nile.
There was a tremor and a loud thump outside.
Murmured conversations ceased. Silence and tension took their place.
In the darkness very faintly a sound grew, a high pitched chattering.
'Puta Madre! Chick Peas!' hissed one of the largest Kidney Beans. 'A shopper has picked up Chick Peas and put them back in our frontage!'
Uproar. Beans turned and twisted in agitation passing rumour around the tin.
'Quiet! Quiet!' the large bean bellowed.
The hubbub died down.
'What can you hear Old Father?' The large bean had leaned slightly toward a small bent companion who rested near the side of the can which was closest to the chattering.
'I cannot understand much of it' replied the old bean slowly. 'They are excited and a little afraid.'
Later that evening as the store was emptying a young bean who had wriggled to his mother, thanks to several people checking their label for salt content, curled close to her and whispered 'Mama, why doesn't Papa like Chick Peas?'
'He says they are a simply a utility pulse dear' 'He finds them dull and overrated'
'But Mama, does he also dislike the Lima beans who are on our other side?'
'He thinks the Lima beans are snobbish. They seldom mix with us. They are rather stuck up by all accounts'.
'And the Adzuki beans above us?'
'They keep themselves to themselves ...they are inscrutable but no trouble'.
'What is the noise the chick peas are making Mama?'
'They are singing.'
The little bean nestled closer. 'Mama, what are they singing?'
'They sing of griefa sad song for the loss of their friends and their homeland and they wonder if they shall ever see them again.'
'Does Papa not like the singing?' asked her son, peeking gingerly past her at his scowling father.
'No he does not. We do not harmonize when we sing so he does not see why they should.'
The young bean settled himself next to his mother and listened intently.
'It's kind of beautiful though' he yawned. 'Goodnight Mama'
He slept and, although he had no way of knowing it, he dreamed of the Nile.