Personal Narrative Fiction

The speaker watches his grandmother prepare the green chili con carne in awe, knowing all along that she wants to please him, even if it means sacrificing her true love in order to take care of her family. Sexual metaphors aside, it is clear that the speaker loves his grandmother immensely and offers a sacrifice of his own. Even though red chiles are clearly his favorite, he is willing to clean his plate of green chili con carne, all the way down to the "last bit of tortilla". He needs to a tall glass of water to fight off the intense spiciness of the dish. He even hisses from the heat, but masks his pain in order to not upset his grandmother. In the end, the grandmothers slaving away in front of the stove allowed her to vent her repressed sexual feelings and desire to be young again. She relishes in the fact that cooking will always be her escapism from the sad truth of growing old.

“Do you still want to eat?” my mom said, “I mean you have already eaten too much, and you should eat

“Mama, you need to eat more than that or you're not going to have enough milk for the baby,” Nancy observed.

David Zinczenko’s essay, “Don’t Blame the Eater,” explains the similarities between obese children and fast-food restaurants. In Zinczenko’s childhood, he had certain foods he could eat also as seen as limited food choices, both at home and in public or other such places. By consuming food, twice a day, at fast-food places, David was now obese. He knows that by participating in the health and fitness corporation, his life was starting to turn around.

After a long Thursday of work on the ranch the hard working men packed into the dining hall. Everyone rushed through the lineup to eat first and instantly the sound of growling stomachs and clinking forks and knifes filled the dining room that was silent moments ago. George, Slim, Lennie, Candy and Carlson in their dirty work wear an scuffed boots sat around an old wood dining room table that was aged with scratches and cuts from the many men that had worked at the ranch before the five men that sat around the table today. The men chowed down on roast beef with gravy and garlic mashed potatoes. Lennie was thrilled as he ate his mountain of potatoes. Gravy spilled down the edge of old Candy’s lips. “Jesus Candy do you have any table manners?” Carlson asked with frustration in his deep voice.

McCorkle’s style of words, utter conviction, and confidence made me hungrier and hungrier to read on. Besides her in-depth description of almost every food she mentioned, and her overzealous, first-person tone, what I found to be really effective was McCorkle’s bringing up of her first-grade peer, Michael, and his proclivity for “licking Kool-Aid powder from his palm whenever the teacher wasn’t looking” (McCorkle 32). I found this to be effective, because not only did it show her level of enamor with food at such a young age (she admired Michael for his habit), but also because she used it to close her piece off, three pages later, “I have a dream that somewhere out there in the grown-up, low-fat world there is a boy named Michael licking his lips…” (McCorkle 35). What I find to be slightly ineffective is the paragraph where McCorkle alludes to her sixth grade memory of going to a Kwik-Pik and copiously indulging in unhealthy snacks, such as chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Whats for lunch today?” Maya had asked while rubbing her stomach. “I'm like so hungry right now!”

It felt like he hadn't eaten in a week, and in a sense, that was exactly the case. His apetite had been cut short this past week. Samuel had spent his time eating an ordinary-sized breakfast, then passing by the remainder of his days with just a measly sandwich or two. Quite the opposite from his normal self, who took great pride in conjuring up delicacies for every breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even them some.

“I’M HUNGRY!” Secunda groaned irritably. “When will supper be served, Mother? My stomach is grumbling again.”

“Siiiiiiiiiiiip siiiiiip.” The pieces of chicken from the caldo de pollo dangled from besides her nose and everywhere else. Her shirt was damped with chicken broth that had previously dripped from her spoon as she slurped. As she ate the next spoonful of broth, she brutally licked her lips in order to get that miniscule piece of rice that had escaped her mouth as she held the spoon close to her mouth. Gracie was poor and all her abuelita could afford was chicken, and today she had decided to make the chicken into soup. Gracie enjoyed her pleasant, warm food, but she had a different definition of “enjoying food.” Her definition of enjoying a meal was to eat a meal at any cost including using her hands and licking every single finger. Gracie

At the table, Thomas quickly ate the bacon and eggs on his plate, and then swallowed down his last sip of milk. A bowl of grits that sat next to his plate, he gently nudged away.

The hunger pains in his stomach had recently reemerged after being absent for weeks. It was probably because he had allowed himself a small meal of indulgence recently. For an inexplicable reason, a piece of thick, stuffed crust pizza with all the toppings, spoke to him in such a sensuous manner, that he wilted. It was a source of embarrassment, and the fuel behind his last three nightly runs, including this one.

John is very smart in technology and can hack almost anything in the world, he broke in the Pentagon´s motherboard. Later that day Zack received a message from a unknown user and it said coordinates. It said ¨George,Oscar,Tango,Oscar,Delta,Oscar,Whisky,November,Tango,Oscar,Whisky,November¨

When not writing, he heard the words inside his head. A smile broke out on the old man's cheeks. His aging skin, patchy and rough in too many places, stretched as the smile overtook him. Reaching across the table, he picked up a piece of bread and ate it. "This is a meal," he commented.

The world was dark but vivid as only awful things can be, where imagery tattoos itself to the mind, but details cannot be recalled; only hushed impending notions exist, rendering every sentient being a shellshocked victim capable of speaking in jilted sentences only.