Las Ketchup

This evening we had homemade chips and fishfingers/ham/chicken goujons for tea. When asked if we should have peas or baked beans with this combination, I said I would like peas, provided that we had enough ketchup to give the moisture to the meal that baked beans would usually bring. Turns out we had two sachets taken from kfc in the cupboard, so I assumed that would be fine, Dad was going to bring a bottle of ketchup home with him later anyway. John had his bbq sauce, Joe needed no sauce. All was well.

As I neared the end of my first sachet of ketchup and went to retrieve the second and final sachet that was on a plate on the table, to my horror I noticed that it was, alas, gone. Before long, it became apparent that John was happily squirting it onto his chip butty. That was when panic struck. I still had two out of four fish fingers left and a pile of chips and there was no way they would go down without a tomato flavoured liquid accompaniment. As I paused in shock, Mum took the ketchup from John (what was left of it) and started frantically squidging it onto my plate. Phew.  John begrudgingly went back to his bbq sauce and finished off his chip butty.

Just as John had finished his butty, and just as I was starting to run out of ketchup again, and began to consider heating up some baked beans, Dad walked in from work, surprisingly early, bearing the glorious gift of a bottle of ketchup. For me, it was perfect. I could finish my meal with a satisfying amount of ketchup. For John, poor boy, it was disastrous. He had just finished his chip butty which he really rather would have liked to have with ketchup.  Feeling guilty, as John had just stormed off, I saved John my last chip with plentiful amounts of ketchup. It was the least I could do. Perhaps deservedly for not originally sharing ketchup, my act of kindness was not met with gratitude, rather he questioned ‘Only one?’ and I was still the guilty party and he munched it down. The lack of forgiveness via partaking in a hand shake or high five from John’s part proved that.

The moral of the story is always make sure you have a good stock of ketchup at home, and if you don’t, refrain from cooking a meal that requires it. Or, perhaps I should say that the moral probably is share, share, that’s fair or something along those lines.

Going along with that good old rouge condiment’s theme, here’s an oldie from 2002…  (I may or may not still remember the dance moves)

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