dolluper
Captain
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2004
- Messages
- 3,903
Subject: Mustard<br />> > > ><br />> > > > > I Love Mustard. (This is a true story. If you have children you will<br />> > > > > probably relate to this father.)<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a<br />> > > > > fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown,<br />> > > > > gourmet mustard.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the<br />> > > > > table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped<br />> > > > > by my wife suddenly at my side.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > "Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,"<br />> > > > > she said.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was<br />> > > > > reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of<br />> > > > > mustard on my fingers.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > I love mustard.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > I had no napkin.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > I licked it off.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > It was not mustard.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only time<br />I<br />> > > > > have sprinted with my tongue protruding.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine<br />> > > > > boys do; only I did it on my tongue.<br />> > > > ><br />> > > > > Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said,<br />> > > > > "Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . . . "Poupon."
