SirenJoe
06-13-2005, 01:44 AM
I 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."
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."