The other night Captain America made Rice-a-Roni for dinner. Well, as part of dinner. I don't normally eat Rice-a-Roni. Aside from it's sort of questionable nutritious value, and it's high levels of sodium, I also had a very strange experience with it when I was about 8.
One night, my mother made Rice-a-Roni to go with whatever it was we were having for dinner. Our family of four ate about half of it (you have to remember, at the time, my sister and I were little girls, and not big eaters). My mother put it in tupperware, and the next night, she reheated it and served it again with whatever we were having for dinner. She did this every night for a week. We were apparently eating the miracle five-loaves-and-two-fishes of Rice-a-Roni, because we never actually finished it. After a week of this, my father decided that was enough and we threw it out.
Somehow, when my family discusses this Rice-a-Roni incident, it's much funnier. We always laugh about the Rice-a-Roni that grew every night in our fridge. But written here it's just sad.
I was a very funny mystery. We laughed a lot about the rice-a -roni.
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