Way back when Vicki lived in Low Rise 9 (a dormitory), she and her suitemate Nancy, a vegetarian and then disciple of the Beans and Rice Diet, would often cook their own meals--a flabbergasting concept at the time--in the rudimetary kitchen that the dorms boasted. One particular day Nancy suceeded in burning a pot of beans whose pungent odor long-afterwards graced the kitchen and lounge. So impressed was I by its (the bean-smell) persistence that I wrote it an ode:
 

       Beans, Beans

Beans and rice the perfect diet,
You'll never know until you try it.
One can survive on just beans and rice,
(Although variety is sometimes nice)
But beans, beans they smell so ill.
Whoever said they don't burn on the grill?
But now that they have, sadly, I feel
We shall smell beans at every meal.


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