Massimo's Meatballs
by Nancy S. Mure

EXCERPT

Branches arched over the tree-lined streets of Brooklyn. Church bells rang in the distance. Birds chirped.

The sun shone through Massimo’s window and warmed him. His dog, Meatball, stretched. It was Sunday morning and Massimo loved the smell of Sunday.

It was the day he ate meatballs.

Only his father wasn’t home to make them.

That didn’t stop Massimo from craving meatballs. Nice, brown, hot, tasty meatballs! He had decided to make them himself. He had watched his father many times. It should be easy.

Massimo considered what he needed to begin. A pan! He searched the cabinets for the medium, round, black frying pan his father always used. He found a wok, bread pans, a pans for cheesecake, cookie sheets and a colander, but no medium, round, black frying pan.

“Mama mia!” Massimo muttered. “I’ll borrow one from Carmine.” Carmine was his best friend and lived in the next house.

Massimo went next door and tapped three times on the door. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hey, Carmine!” he called. “May I borrow a medium, round, black frying pan? I’m making meatballs.”

Carmine opened the door. “Sure,” he said, and returned with the medium, round, black frying pan. He handed the pan to Massimo.

“Thank you,” said Massimo, and went home.

Massimo needed ground beef. He opened the refrigerator and looked inside. He spied left-over fried chicken, ham, boloney, hot dogs and chili, but there was no ground beef. “Mama, mia!” he groaned as he slapped his forehead. “I’ll go next door.”

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