Where Grown Men Cry Over Pallea

After two years in Barcelona Twiglet really felt at home. Although she was a foreigner she found comfort and at ease in her boyfriend's small town. One weekend during the town's five day long festivities she found herself a little drunk on wine, a little full on tapas and very happy with the people. It was three days full of local culture, parades bursting with fire and concerts in every plaza, but there was one thing she had been looking forward to all weekend long, a pallea competition. Upon arrival she saw twenty tables decorated in different themes, covered with food and wine and a delicious odor in the air. Each table had a cook, who would then inivte all their friends to enjoy a night of eating, drinking and fun. As everyone sat the pallea was served. Their chef, The Giant, was a seven foot tall man in an extra large dress, carrying other over sized accessories. His face, rosey from a few beers, had a jolly grin, until he approached the pallea judges.The table of four judges tasted his lobster pallea perhaps with dismay, because as The Giant returned to the table he became self-loathing and found many faults in his dish, saying the rice was too soft and the flavor was bland. When it came time for the judges to announce the winners he began yelling drunken aburdities at the other town members, furious that he would not win the first prize of a goat. The second prize was a sheep and the third a chicken, based on the level of each animal's importance of course. As his friends consoled him he sat on a corner weeping for the sake of his pallea, blowing his nose and looking not quite like the Giant he was. Amoung all the happiness this small town held, perhaps it was also where grown men cried over pallea.