 |
| We have something for you, son. |
To this day I have a clear recollection of my Mom shaking my shoulder and saying, "Steve! Wake up! Wake up, honey!"
I remember groggily saying something along the lines of, "Hunh? What? What's wrong?"
"Here," Mom said, as she pushed her hand closer to my face. "Eat this."
I remember seeing her hand coming toward me through the darkness. By the dim
glow of my Humpty Dumpty nightlight I could see something small, round,
and shiny held between her fingers.
"Ahgh! No! What is it?" I shouted.
"It's an eyeball," Dad said from somewhere in the gloom. "Come on now, son. Just eat it."
When I felt the cold, wet, object touch my lips I panicked, which I think was understandable. Thrashing and shrieking, I struck my Mom's hand and sent the gelatinous orb sailing out of her grasp.
Tears streamed down my checks as I struggled to comprehend the horror I
was experiencing. An eyeball! My parents had apparently gone insane while I was sleeping and were trying to make me eat
an eyeball!
The closet light came on then, providing stark illumination to my
childhood bedroom. My parents stood by the side of my bed, their
expressions an odd mixture of amusement and disappointment.
 |
| Just kidding, son. |
"Pull yourself together son," said Dad. "It wasn't an eyeball, it was just a peeled grape."
"That's right, honey," said Mom. "Just a peeled grape. Stop crying
and go back to sleep. It's okay. We thought you'd think it was funny."
As they turned out the light and left my room I recall hearing Dad say, "Where'd the grape go?"
"I couldn't find it. I think it may have gone into the heating vent," said Mom.
"Great," Dad said, with a tone of sarcasm, "That'll smell good later."
That was over 40 years ago, and the experience still comes to mind
every time someone offers me grapes. My parents, of course, deny the
event ever took place. To their credit, they do a pretty good job of
acting like they have no idea what I'm talking about, but that's often the case.
