When my sister came over to say goodbye to my mother, my mother asked her if she had eaten dinner. No she had not. Mom asked her if she wanted something eat. No she did not. Mom asked if she wanted some hot chocolate. No she did not. Mom asked if she wanted a banana. No to that, too. Then something else happened (I don't remember what) and Sister put her head down on the table as if she was suffering from the ultimate misery. Mom said, you should have let me make you something to eat.
Flash back (gulp) about 20 years or so to a teacher I had in grade school, Mr. Ewen. One Halloween (yes, I had him multiple years; no I was not held back), he told this story about some girl who had been kidnapped by a creepy old man and forced to live in a cabin (I think I missed something in the telling of the story because all of this seemed very strange to me). And this creepy old man made her make porridge. And he wanted her to put blood in the porridge, but she didn't want to eat the blood, but she dared not argue with the creepy old man. So, while she was making the porridge, she cleverly let her kerchief fall back from her hair so it was around her neck. And she cleverly slid it around to make a sort of scarf. So when she served the creepy old man this bloody porridge, she pretended to eat hers, all the while actually spooning it into her scarf. Somehow this enabled her to escape from the creepy old man and presumably live happily ever after.
I retold this story to my sister, suggesting that the next time she come over, she wear a big turtleneck sweater so she can hide all of this food that Mom wants to make her. I pointed out that her neck would be a little lumpy, but she'd be less annoyed by our mother. This lumpy neck reminded me of the lumpy running outfit in hyperbole and a half, which prompted me to say, this is the happiest and itchiest moment of my life!