Post by JJ Judkins on May 29, 2006 15:45:22 GMT -6
Subject: I Love Mustard
Love Mustard. (This is a true story. If you have children you will
probably relate to this father.) As ham sandwiches go, it was
perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce
and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The
corners of my jaw aching in anticipation,I carried it to the table
in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped
by my wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my
sandwich," she said. I had him balanced between my left
elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham
sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.....
It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of
routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my
wife said, "Now you know why they call that fancy mustard ...... "Poupon."
Love Mustard. (This is a true story. If you have children you will
probably relate to this father.) As ham sandwiches go, it was
perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce
and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The
corners of my jaw aching in anticipation,I carried it to the table
in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped
by my wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my
sandwich," she said. I had him balanced between my left
elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham
sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.....
It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of
routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my
wife said, "Now you know why they call that fancy mustard ...... "Poupon."