I shared your frightening story with my husband and son, who were appalled and stunned that this kind of perversion could be occurring in the state that gave us the Liberty Bell and Shoofly Pie.
"Poor Senor Polvo," said my son, with tears in his eyes, because he had once spilled a jar of honey on himself and knows what it is to be sticky.
"Son, it's a woman's world out there, and you need to remember that as you leave us this fall." My husband was cautiously moving the bowl of chocolate kisses on the coffee table out of my reach. "It's one reason we're sending you west. New England just is too dangerous for a pretty boy like yourself."
"i wonder if this is a delayed reaction to the Salem Witch Trials," I said. "You know, they made those poor girls eat cake made from their own urine."
My husband looked at me with narrowed eyes. He quickly ate the rest of the kisses.
Last night I was awakened from a deep sleep by noises in the kitchen. I crept to the stairs, carrying my late night weapon of choice, the Itty Bitty Book Light.
"Look in back of those boxes of macaroni and cheese," I heard my husband hiss.
"Wow- she DOES have chocolate jimmies!" my son said, his voice quivering.
My husband grunted as he lifted the ten pound container of peanutbutter, the biggest Costco has to offer, from the top shelf. "Damn, she got crunchy,too."
"Dad, you don't think... I mean, she's my mom. She's your wife..."
"I don't know son, but it never hurts to be careful." |
