Sunday, December 29, 2013

Onion and garlic flavored chewing gum

Onion and garlic flavored chewing gum


Dear Bill,

I got your package in the mail last week.  And I must say, I wasn’t surprised.  After the artichoke flavored chewing gum in August, the olive flavored gum in November, and the oyster flavored gum in January, it was no shock to me that you would send me onion and garlic flavored chewing gum this Valentine’s Day.  By the way, thanks for the note mentioning our little kiss in the movie theater sophomore year…I have fond memories of that evening…it adds an air of excitement to our lifelong friendship.

So, anyway, since you got your job at Trident, you’ve really done some amazing thing.  Your creativity, your willingness to take risks, your “fuck you all” nature, that’s really benefited you.  You even won “employee of the month” after that awesome presentation on why kids will surely buy steak flavored gum!  Each time I get a new idea of yours in the mail, I open the package with such ferocity…you wouldn’t believe it, Bill, I’m like a dog in heat, begging each stick to bang me and explode its flavor into me, opening up my inner taste buds and filling me with its zest.

As I write this, I’m gnawing on a piece of garlic flavored gum.  I must say, it’s completely out of this world.  Last week, I set the garlic aside, and tore into the onion.  As I chewed that first piece, I had no time to relish in its originality, since I suddenly remembered I had a meeting with a coworker at Teresa’s Café downtown.  I grabbed my coat (even though it was 60 degrees out - the onion fumes must have gotten to me), and bolted out the door.  On the crowded subway (oh, rush hour, how I loathe thee), I attempted conversation with a hottie in a Hilfiger suit.  He was holding on to the bar next to mine, yet he made a face of agony (like nothing I’d ever seen, I swear), and turned away.  What was the problem?  Was my makeup smeared?  Did I have a stain on my blouse (I mean, in a $400 silk Versace blouse, what does a little stain matter?).  I recovered my poise though, and although my ego was hurt, I stood with confidence the rest of the subway ride, pretending to have important things on my mind.

Once at my stop, I briskly walked out of the subway and up the stairs to the street.  I entered the café just on time (lucky me!), and met my colleague at the table.  He was sitting there sipping a ginger ale (or was it a vodka tonic?  Was it THAT kind of meeting?).  I held out my hand and gave him a firm handshake (a woman must make her confidence known at all times), greeted him, and jumped right into business (with the possibility of ordering a Merlot lingering in the back of my mind). 

About fifteen minute into the meeting, my coworker, Joey, excused himself.  I saw him head toward the bathroom.  A few minute later, I saw him exit the bathroom, and head straight for the door.  And Bill, you know what?  He walked straight out the door.  I had never witnessed such shocking, unprofessional behavior in my life.  I sat by myself at the table, chewing the nearly flavorless onion gum.  After about a half hour, I asked for the check (thanks for leaving your share, Joey!) and solemnly walked out of the restaurant. 
What had just happened?  How would I explain this to my boss?  How would I finish my report for Monday?  I needed some key figures from that bastard Joey!

Luckily though, none of that mattered.  As I walked down the street I felt my tongue begin to swell, and my mouth begin to heat up.  I felt my tongue crowding into my teeth, growing larger by the moment.  My mouth felt like a fire ball, and breathing was starting to become difficult.  The last thing I remember is seeing an old lady walking past me with barking miniature poodle in her arms.  I tried to grab out to her, but I honestly don’t remember if I reached her.

The next morning, I awoke in the hospital.  There were flowers all around me, an IV in my left hand, and I was dressed in one of those ugly hospital gowns you see on TV.  I turned to my left and saw Joey.  His had an expression of intense guilt on his face.  “I never should have left you; this never would have happened if I hadn’t snuck out like that,” he said.  “Why did you sneak out of the restaurant, Joey?” I uttered sleepily.  “Well, frankly, your breath fucking stunk,” he said. I thought about Joey’s words, and shrugged my shoulders.  It felt wrong to feel offended over silly words in the hospital, when I should be thankful I wasn’t dead and all.  “What happened to me?” I asked Joey.  “You had an allergic reaction to something, and you passed out in the street,” he said sadly.  How odd, I thought to myself.  All I’d eaten that day was an apple (red delicious, my favorite!) and I popped in a piece of your new onion gum, Bill, to ebb my hunger a bit before dinner.  “Stranger things have happened,” I thought to myself.

Well, Bill, I’m just going on and on here.  What I really wanted to tell you is that Joey and I just got engaged!  After his visit at the hospital, we started to chat online, and realized just how much we have in common.  I know it’s quick, but when it’s true love, it’s true love, what can I say.  I don’t know why, but I feel like you’re somehow connected to this relationship, in a weird way.  Maybe because you were my first crush in high school (as if you didn’t know!).  I don’t know, whatever it is, I felt the need to write you a special letter, to thank you for the gum (Trident is lucky to have an employee like you!) and to let you be the first to know about me and Joey (I plan on waiting exactly 72 more hours before posting it on Facebook).  So, Bill, I hope to see you at the wedding.  You can pass out some of your gum samples if you’d like!  

Love,


Sally

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