I know there were moments in life where I stood up against authority. I just can’t think of anything meaningful. Most of my defiant moments were pretty ridiculous. Like the time I tried to get out of eating squash and I yacked in my plate. Gross, huh?
We were having cantaloupe for dessert. I love cantaloupe. It’s so juicy and meaty. If my parents didn’t have succulent bribery, I’m sure brute force was next.
I’m not surprised that food is a big motivator for me but who goes cuckoo for cantaloupe? That’s right. This guy. I still do.
As a matter of fact, when I get a good one, I’ll compulsively nosh until it’s gone. Right before bed.
Do you realize how poorly you sleep after eating two pounds of melon? You just don’t retain all that fluid in your cankles.
I remember that dinner like yesterday. It must’ve been thirty years ago. I can’t remember what we ate for dinner. I can’t even remember much after the incident. I’m pretty sure I was wearing my Yoda Underoos. I remember fried squash. I remember the melon-y goodness. Most of all, I remember a semi-voluntary reaction to purge my body of this foul vegetable.
After making a spectacle with two minutes of heaving and groaning, my dad said, “Alright. That’s enough.” I stopped with my squash expulsion.
The rest of the meal was as if I was on a vision quest. I rinsed my plate at the sink and sat down to finish dinner.
Oh, and I had cantaloupe.