The dr bob food stuffs department is usually seriously understocked, so much so that it usually requires brilliant inspired and imaginative thinking to figure out how to combine what is lying around into an acceptable facsimile of an edible entree.
This time Claes the pasta hating Swede was expected to arrive by train but it wasn't clear when and our stomachs decided after waiting that it was definitely going to be too late. For him. So we had little time to move since he could call at any minute and nothing lying around to improvise with. Pasta of course. And a cream of shrimp soup—we always keep that around for the orecchiette. But what to do, what to do. (Not orecchiette again—no need to overdo a good thing.) So it looked like the cream of shrimp would have to be the base for a pasta sauce—say with fusilli—that's the pasta that always reminds dr bob of VD (spirochetes?).
So we started throwing in stuff in a hurry (remember Claes on the way) and ani overdid the salt so we compensated with some sugar and more red pepper. Pasta just al dente, drained and mixed with the sauce, and the phone rings. Claes the pasta hating Swede. Just missed the hourly train out to the burb's (reduced evening schedule). We said there's a McDonald's in the station. We'll be waiting at the stop in the burbs. And sat down and enjoyed this successful creation.
After the dishes a knock on the door. Claes? Impossible. A policeman and a detective wanting to check out a funny smell like a dead person reported by the neighbor this morning in our absence. No dead people or other formerly living creatures were found.