SUNDAY

Once again, it was Sunday dinner at Nonna�s home. Although getting on in years, she insisted on having it this time, since she was leaving on Friday to go on a cruise, and wanted to get all the "Bon Voyages" taken care of at once. And, well, nobody in this family ever argues with Grandma Nonna.

Dinner would be a heap of pasta � that was her specialty. Didn�t matter what kind � spaghetti, ziti, rigatoni � whatever it was, she could make it perfectly. "An old family secret," she would always say when asked. No one could get any more out of her.

So we�re all gathered around the table, talking up a storm while we waited for the feast. I polished off the last of the cola, so I went into the kitchen for a new bottle.

Nonna was there, over her big, enamel pasta pot. I rinsed out the empty bottle and dumped it into the recycling bin. While I did that, Nonna dropped a handful of penne into the pot, and sang a little ditty in Italian.

It was a catchy tune. While getting a fresh bottle of soda from the fridge, I asked her about it. "That�s a cute little song," I said. "What does it mean? You know my Italian�s rusty."

"Oh, nothing," she said. "A bit of nonsense about making good pasta."

I went back to the dining room with the soda, but I couldn�t get the tune out of my head. Could it have something to do with her "old family secret"? My curiosity was aroused. I wrote down the song, and contrived to keep a close eye on the kitchen.

I didn�t notice anything special � until the pasta was done. She sang another tune (at the end of which, I was distracted by my mother. "Tony! Get in here and sit down!"

"Be right there, Ma!" I turned back to the kitchen to see Nonna pouring out a huge amount of pasta from the pot into a strainer. Then it hit me � I had not seen her add anything to the pot other than that first handful. Where�d all that pasta come from? The songs must have had something to do with it, I believed. So I wrote down the second song, too, and resolved to try an experiment as soon as I could.

That opportunity would not be far off. Dinner conversation naturally revolved around Nonna�s upcoming cruise. Nonna would need someone to drive her to the ship, and to look after her house while she was away. I volunteered. While I had the place to myself, I could look for clues in her recipes.

TUESDAY

I called my girlfriend Stephanie that evening. She and I had been going out for some time. She was pretty good looking (to me, anyway) with a nice 36B-28-36 figure and long, dark hair. After the usual idle chatter, I asked if she�d like to come over for pasta on Saturday night.

"Actually," I said, "it�ll be at my Grandma Nonna�s house. She�s going to be a way for a week, and I want to try out her secret pasta recipe."

"Can�t you cook at your own place?" asked Stephanie.

"Well, she�s got a special pasta pot that is part of her secret," I answered. "You�ll like her home anyway. And she gave me the keys, so I could keep an eye on the place. It�ll be OK�"

Steph agreed to let me pick her up at seven.

SATURDAY

So I pick up Stephanie on time, and we head over to Nonna�s house. I set everything up for dinner, and get the water boiling in the pot.

"Now for the secret," I said. "Apparently there�s a little �folk magic� of some type involved."

Stephanie gave me a look. "Come on," she said, "that�s a load of crap."

"I�m not kidding � watch." I dropped a handful of pasta into the pot, while I sang the tune that I had heard Nonna sing, and had written down. "Now we wait, and the pasta will grow to fill the pot. When it�s enough, I�ll sing a second song to stop the growth."

"Yeah, riiiiight�.."

Well, after many minutes, nothing was happening. I felt really stupid, and Stephanie gave me a lot of I Told You So. Needless to say, the rest of our date was a failure.

WEDNESDAY

The next time I heard from Steph it was Wednesday evening. She called me in a near panic. "What the hell did you do with that pasta song? It�s making my breasts grow! I�m up to an E cup now!"

I was speechless. Partly because I was surprised that the song spell actually made her breasts grow, and partly because I was picturing her with very large breasts (hey, I�m a breast man). I sputtered out that I really couldn�t do anything until Grandma Nonna got back on Sunday afternoon � praying silently that Nonna could fix things � since she knew more about this stuff than I did.

Needless to say, Steph was pissed. "Well, she better be able to do something. Otherwise, you�re paying the medical bills."

SUNDAY

I spent the rest of the week on edge, hoping that Nonna could really do something, and that Stephanie would not hate every molecule of my being with every molecule of her being. We had actually been discussing marriage, and I didn�t want our relationship to collapse.

I was waiting when Nonna came out of Customs. After the standard greetings � how was the trip, and all that � and collecting her luggage and loading it into my car, we headed for her house.

I had to bring up the matter of Stephanie�s breasts eventually, and now seemed like the best time. "Nonna," I said, "I have a confession, and I need your help. Let me tell you the whole situation before you say anything."

Nonna looked at me intensely as I told her what I had done, and what had happened as a result. I knew I had aroused her fiery Italian temper, and she let me have every last bit of it.

"You stupid moron!" she yelled. "What in the name of all the saints did you think you were doing? I should give you such a dope slap it will knock your eyeballs from here across town! How your parents could have raised such an idiot is beyond me!" There was more like that all the rest of the way.

When we got to her house, she said, "Go and call Stephanie, and go bring her here. I will unpack while she�s on the way, and when she gets here we�ll see about setting things right, you bozo. Now get my luggage inside."

The conversation with Steph was brief. She was up to an H cup now, and would drive over herself � apparently, the less time she spent with me the better. Damn � I was losing her. I told Nonna this, and she asked, "Do you have the words to the song you sang?" I did. "Well, hand them over. Now go sit quietly in the living room while I unpack." We waited for Stephanie.

She arrived shortly. We heard a car pull up, and both Nonna and I reached the front door at the same time as Stephanie was ringing the bell. "Come on in, dear," said Nonna, her eyes bugging out at Steph�s chest. "This goofus will wait in the living room while we talk in the kitchen � and no snooping!" That last was pointed at me.

I went in silence. Though I had to admit, Stephanie looked great. Even with the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing, you could tell she had a great figure. I couldn�t say anything, though. I didn�t know how she would react. She was probably angry enough with me already.

I spent what seemed like an eternity twiddling my thumbs. I could hear them talking, but I couldn�t make out anything.

Eventually, they came in to the room. Stephanie had a bit of a smile on her face; Nonna was expressionless.

"Alright, now listen up, Captain Stupid," said Nonna as she pointed a stern finger at me. "First, you should not be messing with things you don�t understand. Got that?" I did. "Now to the important part. I know what happened, and I know how to stop this nice girl�s breasts from growing any more. But first, you have to swear that you will never ever tell anyone else about this. If you do, you will regret it."

I had no real choice. I agreed.

Nonna went on. "First, the song I sing over the pasta is actually a very old magic spell handed down through the generations. The spell only works with a special pot � that old enamel pot that I always cook pasta in. Any other pot, nothing happens. You used the pot, so its magic made your song work."

"Now, the song. You have more earwax than brains, because you copied it down wrong and somehow, actually made a spell that makes breasts grow. You didn�t try the song to stop it, did you." No, I didn�t. "It wouldn�t have worked anyway. Your verse is just nonsense. And even then, you missed the final step. After singing the second song for the pasta, you have to blow a kiss at the pot."

"Finally, the important part. Stephanie, in the kitchen I asked you some questions. I am going to ask them again now, and I want you to give me the same answers you did then. OK?"

"Okay," replied Stephanie.

"Very well. Before this jerk revealed that he has a brain the size of a peanut, if he asked you to marry him, would you have said yes?"

I was surprised. Even more so when Stephanie said, "Yes".

"If he were to ask you now to marry him," said Nonna, "even with less sense than God gave a turkey, would you still say yes?"

Now I was really surprised.

"Of course," said Stephanie.

"Good," said Nonna. Handing Stephanie a piece of paper, she said "Here is the verse that will stop the magic, but there is a catch, as I explained to you."

Nervously, I looked at them both. Nonna went on.

"You have to recite the verse � either one of you can do it � while at the peak of the throes of passion."

"Huh?" I said.

Nonna shot back, "Boy, you really are a numbskull. The two of you have to make love, and when you are coming, say the verse. Then, you will of course have to get married. I won�t have it any other way. You�ve probably been screwing around already, so you might as well get married. The two of you would be a nice couple�"

I looked a Stephanie. She smiled at me, and asked, "Your place or mine?"

"Good, that�s settled," said Nonna. "Let me get you the pot; you�ll need to have it in the room."

As we left, Nonna hugged us both. "You�ll be happy together, as long as you keep this magic a secret. And Stephanie, don�t worry about clothes. I know a dressmaker who can fix you up nice. After all, you�re family now, right?" Nonna nudged me in the ribs to make her point.

"Well, not for a bit," I said with a smile. "It will take a while to set up the wedding. Invitations, caterer, gown, you know�" We all chuckled.

After saying our good-byes, I walked Steph to her car. She gave me a wicked glance, saying, "You know, what�s the hurry? I can handle another cup size or two, if you can�"