Once upon a time, when I was four, I used to love sausage. Every once in awhile my mom would make it for breakfast, and I would dip it in a big pile of ketchup. But then something tragic happened: One lovely morning, my mother forked a couple of steaming sausages onto my plate next to that mountain of magic tomato sauce. As I stabbed that log of meat with my fork and aimed for that delicious ketchup, I stopped. I stared at that red mound. And that was when I realized; Ketchup. Looked. Like. BLOOD. Right then and there, I lost my appetite for ketchup for a good 15 years. Even the smell made my stomach turn, and still does.
Then came along my little sister, who ate ketchup on popcorn and celery and mixed it into her hot chocolate and who knows what else. That wretched child! Anyways, I've gotten over it and I partake of it now. Do not fret.
Something good DID come of that morning, though. We had just gotten some new dark blue mugs which my mom had served cold milk in that morning. I lifted the mug up to my lips to take a drink, and with a start realized that E.T. was staring at me from the bottom of the cup. Nope, it wasn't E.T. It was my distorted image, but it certainly looked like that endearing little alien that I loved so much. I took a long time, sipping away at my milk as E.T. and I talked telepathically. He told me to "Beeeee Goooooood." And I was. I really loved those mugs.
I was a weird kid. And I'm still a weird adult.
5/13/12
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1 comment:
Love these stories - keep 'em coming!
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