It felt a little awkward at first… like getting on a bike after a 20 year hiatus.
I picked up the knife; it felt heavy in my hand. The weight of it sent a little tingle up my spine.
What if my tastes had changed? What if I didn’t like it anymore?
I felt the familiar curl of hunger in my abdomen and knew I had to act, and fast. Otherwise, things could get messy.
I felt like a kid again, only this time there was no grown up to manage my actions… or my true desires.
I started small at first; to be honest my giddiness to dig my knife in was a little frightening… better to pace yourself, I thought.
My self-control only lasted a few seconds. Before I knew it the walls, countertops and my clothes were peppered with splatterings of deep crimson, like exotic blooms erupting into angry existence.
What had I done?
Not wishing to be discovered as the orchestrator of this terrible mess, I quickly covered the evidence with the first thing I could lay a hand on.
Picking up the knife once again I tried to resist the urge to cut.
“Down the middle or at an angle?” My twisted mind would not give way and eventually… I succumbed.
Having sliced down the middle, I created two where there had been only one.
I needed to get rid of it… hide the evidence somehow.
So I ate it.
The Not So Fantastic Reality:
The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:
ONE: Ever perform a relatively rudimentary task and suddenly think, “I can’t remember the last time I did this”? I had one of those moments today as I was preparing my lunch, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I can honestly say that I cannot remember the last time I made and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I know my mom used to make me cream cheese and jelly sandwiches all the time as a little girl (yeah, I was a strange kid) and I was a master at preparing a peanut butter and banana sandwich in my college days (toasted, of course) but a peanut butter and jelly? Nope… can’t remember consuming one of those in the last 10+ years. Well, I am happy to report I was able to successfully craft this culinary cornerstone of Americana with generally positive results. Never mind the globs of jelly left behind it its wake… necessary casualties for the ‘greater good’ of sandwich assembly, I say.
Love & Squirrels.