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When Mr. Hong awoke this morning, he felt the world was a bit colder. It wasn't anything significant that happened. He, of course, had been deeply saddened at Mrs. Hong's passing 16 months prior, and while her absence left a deep hole in his heart that could never be replaced, he had found contentment in the day to day running of his restaurant, Mr. Hong's Chinese Palace.
Mr. Hong's dark mood today was also not related to his jealousy of his brother, Charles (as he now called himself), who was an extremely successful businessman in San Francisco.
No, today was just a dark day in Mr. Hong's life. It was something he couldn't shake as he prepared meal after meal for Tampa Bay's hungry citizens. Normally, he found a sort of monotonous peace in the repetitive nature of cooking, but today, with every dish he made, his malcontent rose... Specifically, when he made Crab Rangoon.
Of course, it didn't help that his Rangoon was the best in the city--and probably the state--almost every patron of Mr. Hong's Chinese Palace placed an order (because the rest of the food was horrible). And, late that night when an order for his famous Crab Rangoon came in, he knew it would be his last as he reached for the canister labeled 'POISON'.
You take a bite of the delicious Rangoon and almost instantly, you realize something is wrong. There's a sharp, burning, delicious, pain brewing in your belly. You know these will be your last moments on this Earth as your intestines begin to boil.
But, they still taste so damned good!
As you take another bite and wait for the succulent Crab Rangoon to destroy you from the inside out, you look back on your life and the choices you've made and wonder: