The Missing Pass

The Missing Pass
by Andi Lutz

If you’ve ever had a Pasta Pass you would know that they come in a fancy little box and it makes you feel like you are opening a present. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away, so I kept our cards in the boxes displayed on the counter and we counted down the days until we could use them. We decided the first day it is valid we would go to dinner as a family.

That morning I get up early to make breakfast for us. I bounce into the kitchen and see pieces of one of the boxes chewed up and scattered all over the kitchen floor. I go into the living room and look at the dogs. I know exactly who did it, he looks guilty and clearly, he knows he is in trouble. But if I could have eaten the box and the card I would have too. I don’t blame him, it’s like he could smell the pasta coming from the Pasta Pass.

But we need that Pasta Pass. I look at the other boxes and the cards are still safely in their homes. My husband’s was the one that had got eaten. I didn’t see the missing Pasta Pass anywhere and from the look on guilty dogs face he shredded it and ate it. I’m going to stay home all day and make sure the culprit isn’t sick or in case he needs to go to the vet. There is no way he could have swallowed it whole.

My husband is going to be really upset that he can’t have never ending pasta tonight. I decide to bring him breakfast in bed to make up for it. I tell my husband if we aren’t all going as a family then we can go for the first time once we get a replacement card for him. He smiles, kisses me on the forehead, and says that I can go by myself if I want and he would stay home with our daughter. He knows that sometimes I needed alone time and there is no better place for it. I smile and say, ‘Really?’

“Yes, of course.”

So, I get all ready that evening for the debut of my Pasta Pass. I leave home feeling guilty because I think it’s just a mom thing when you do something for yourself instead of everyone else. I drive to Olive Garden. I walk in by myself, table for one, I sit down, and say ‘No I’m not waiting for anyone else. I know what I want, I always know what I want when I come here.’ The Pasta Pass isn’t as exciting as I thought it would be until I looked up and see my husband walking towards me holding our two-year-old daughter and their Pasta Passes. They sit down, and I look at him questioningly.

‘It was under the couch,’ he says.

At Olive Garden We’re All Family and it’s good to have all my family here when we’re eating Never Ending pasta.

Olive Garden Pasta Pass
What is it?
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The Missing Pass
Bathtub of Soup
It's My Birthday

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