No, I’m not one of the witches in Macbeth… though, you might deem me to be one, judging by such a list. I’ve felt that way many a time standing in the checkout line at the grocery store. Sweet pickles and liver? The cashier gives you one of those looks signifying they think you’re more than a little crazy. How about raw pork sausage and ice cream? Disgusting. Even if you aren’t planning on combining these things into a meal once you get home, they simply look bad together.
Walking up the stairs yesterday, to survey the rain-soaked field below, and take a few pictures, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a big leaf sticking to the side of the office. Wait… was it really a leaf? It seemed to be… moving? Yes, this large, dark green object was definitely in motion, and on an upward slither towards the top of the office. It was the slug of my dreams in the flesh. The intentions and devious plans this slug had in store for the whole of humanity once it got to the top, will be one of the secrets lost to history (and just what did King Kong intend to do after he scaled the Empire State Building?); for after jumping at the realization that I had almost brushed against a giant slug, I called Dad out to view the monstrous thing, and snapped a few pictures for posterity’s sake. The slug had slimed its last slime — Dad, aided with a paper towel, plucked up Sir Slug, told him to say his final prayers, then chucked him from the top of the hill, to the bottom, where he landed with an enormous PLOP in a very cold, very deep, and very muddy pool of water. Hence, this young slug met his pitiful end — heartlessly and mercilessly flung with violent force to sink helplessly to the depths of Lake Greenwood. And I laughed. Yes, watching this slug’s sober execution carried out, I laughed. My heart is cold and hard indeed.
My doctor was very particular about the medicine he prescribed for me. Two ear infections, and a pretty red throat, were no small matter, and with much pondering, and deliberation, he wrote up a prescription for the best medicine that could be procured at Costco. Amoxicillin. All was well and good. But, I knew what the very darkest of old wive’s tales whispered of as the ultimate cure for colds. It’s hoarded like gold, and kept in secret stashes by half the world’s population, and bartered with by the other half. My own concealed supply is enough to carry me through this cold, and beyond. Chocolate, and ONLY dark chocolate at that, combined with my prescription of amoxicillin, have already been to this cold what a silver bullet is to a werewolf, and a stake in the heart is to a vampire. Already, this cold’s choking fingers have loosened their grip. Chocolate and amoxicillin is a potent cure indeed.
Coram Deo!
