Pai: Yum.

Me: (chewing)

Hank: (slow whine equal to a tortured deflating balloon)

Me: What’s wrong Hank?

Hank: I don’t like it.

Pai: I know for a fact you like curil (curry).

Me: Quick!  GET ME THE PHONE! We must call the police.

Pai: What is it?

Me: Isn’t it obvious?  Someone has stolen Hank’s tongue.

Hank: No!

Me: Only explanation.  Someone must have snuck into the house, dead of night, opened your mouth, cut out your tongue and replaced it with a tongue that does not like curil (curry).


Me: Totally.  Your taste is in your tongue.  Ladrões (thieves), only explanation.  WHERE IS THE PHONE?  (searching under couch cushions) Must – call – the – police!

Alfredo:  Tens que comer mais qualquer coisinha Henrique ou a tua mãe chama a polícia. (You better take some more bites Hank or your mama is going to call the police.)

Me: Yup, there must be an investigation.  We must recover your tongue. Goblins probably.

Pai: Not Goblins…

Hank: (mouth full) Aliens!

Me: Possibly. (searching through the bookshelf) WHERE IS THE PHONE?

Pai: We should make a missing poster.

Hank: (mouth full) Like for cats and dogs?

Me: I am on it.  Don’t worry Hank. We will get the goblins or ladrões (thieves) or aliens or black market tongue traffickers who stole your curry loving tongue.

Hank: murmur, mumble (mouthful)

Me: Excuse me?  I couldn’t understand you.  Your mouth is full.

Hank: (chewing)

Pai: Look what happened while you were searching for the phone. (Hank’s plate half finished)

Hank: I remember that curil (curry) is mais o menos (ok). But you can still make the signs and we can still hang it on the door just in case someone really did snitch my tongue and the new one only likes curil (curry) a little bit.