My mom packed me a lunch in the elementary school days. It was enough of an experience that I even wrote about it for my college writing class.
If you'll allow me the indulge:
"The table had a cream colored surface that looked sterile next to the other kid’s Technicolored treats. I pulled back the black zipper that along the side of the synthetic material that surrounded the molded ceramic bin that made up my lunchbox. Inside there was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on wheat bread that was just starting to lose its sponginess and had begun to develop a crispy texture. The peanut butter was scant and spread thin on only one slice of the bread so as not to stick to the roof of your mouth. The grape jelly however had been glopped on in excess and sought to escape it’s confines either by squeezing out of the sides or by soaking through the capillaries in the bread. The sandwich was always sticky, and after I ate it I always had to lick your fingers first before wiping my fingers or else have bits of the tissue thin napkin stick to me for the rest of the day.
The apple slices had lost their green tint and shining platinum purity, and had gradually faded into a thin brown leathery skin after a night on the kitchen counter. While their age was not appealing to the eye, biting them in half, released a splurge of preserved juice like a hot geyser down the back of my throat while the last remaining plume of freshness charmed my nostrils."
I forever stand vigilant to protect this planet from the myriad of forces that are always against us. Be it the octopus, zombies, aliens or the robots my team of human agents, and our feline allies, circle the globe in a never ending struggle for human freedom.
I learn all I can on every subject that interests me. I especially enjoy ancient history because in the past there are valuable lessons to be found. Also, if I ever get my time machine to work properly, it would be good to know a bit about possible destinations and what to expect when I get there.
I greatly appreciate beautiful design. Be it manufactured or found naturally I am fascinated by the process of invention. I am attracted to the unique, the strange, the haunted. I like to share what I find on this blog.
And not let us forget the 'Cephalopod Menace' who, if allowed to, would wrap their tentacles around all that is good and pure in this life and crush it until it remained no more. They are creatures of pure spite. Hate is all they know. Death is all they do. They are our most ruthless and determined enemy.
So we fight. Selena has the celebrity contacts, the cat is ruthless and without pity, Roosevelt's ghost has the experience and I do the wetwork.
Fighting for the future of the planet doesn't have to be a chore, however. We can take the time to appreciate all that is cool in this world even as we cut the octopus into bite sized chunks.
This is the reason there has always been and must forever be, a Cave of Cool. Be sure to wipe your feet before you enter.
2 comments:
Yeah, me too. In those days Moms were at home to make lunch. Eating at school was a rare treat.
My mom packed me a lunch in the elementary school days. It was enough of an experience that I even wrote about it for my college writing class.
If you'll allow me the indulge:
"The table had a cream colored surface that looked sterile next to the other kid’s Technicolored treats. I pulled back the black zipper that along the side of the synthetic material that surrounded the molded ceramic bin that made up my lunchbox. Inside there was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on wheat bread that was just starting to lose its sponginess and had begun to develop a crispy texture. The peanut butter was scant and spread thin on only one slice of the bread so as not to stick to the roof of your mouth. The grape jelly however had been glopped on in excess and sought to escape it’s confines either by squeezing out of the sides or by soaking through the capillaries in the bread. The sandwich was always sticky, and after I ate it I always had to lick your fingers first before wiping my fingers or else have bits of the tissue thin napkin stick to me for the rest of the day.
The apple slices had lost their green tint and shining platinum purity, and had gradually faded into a thin brown leathery skin after a night on the kitchen counter. While their age was not appealing to the eye, biting them in half, released a splurge of preserved juice like a hot geyser down the back of my throat while the last remaining plume of freshness charmed my nostrils."
Post a Comment