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skyringI'm feeling a bit of kinship with Yokospungeon.
Kerri made a pasta bake for dinner and let it sit a bit too long in the oven while she talked to her mother. A few of the pasta buts were a little brittle on the end so when I started crunching up a mouthful I thought nothing of it except that it felt a little odd and everyone else was looking at me.
A very crunchy piece of pasta. Then I noticed something gleaming in my plate - a tiny piece of glass. I stopped chewing and considered this. Spat out a bit of what I was chewing. Uh-oh.
"There's glass in the tucker, Kerri." I let a little saliva dribble onto my palm. "Look!"
Bright red. I quickly went into the bathroom and rinsed my mouth thoroughly. I may have swallowed some fragments of glass, but Kerri assured me that I'd be OK. Then again, she said that the cut on my tongue would stop bleeding after a while and it's still leaking an hour later.
Not enough to worry her, but enough to bother me. It's my tongue after all.
So Yoko, I'm remembering back to the time your pet rat bit you on the tongue. This isn't a gush of blood, but a trickle, so it's nothing to worry about and I suspect I probably won't bleed to death, but just in case, let me say that I have the fondest regard for all of you and hope you'll remember me fondly as the idiot who crunched up glass at dinner.
Where did the glass come from? Possibly the can of tomatoes, not that this makes a real lot of sense, but it's the only likely culprit, seeing as how the glass serving dish is quite intact.
Times like these I'm glad I married a doctor. She might have zero respect for other people's pain - not that my tongue is hurting - but at least she can tell me not to be worried and not to carry on like a pork chop.
I'm cooking dinner tomorrow.
If I'm still here to eat it.
Kerri made a pasta bake for dinner and let it sit a bit too long in the oven while she talked to her mother. A few of the pasta buts were a little brittle on the end so when I started crunching up a mouthful I thought nothing of it except that it felt a little odd and everyone else was looking at me.
A very crunchy piece of pasta. Then I noticed something gleaming in my plate - a tiny piece of glass. I stopped chewing and considered this. Spat out a bit of what I was chewing. Uh-oh.
"There's glass in the tucker, Kerri." I let a little saliva dribble onto my palm. "Look!"
Bright red. I quickly went into the bathroom and rinsed my mouth thoroughly. I may have swallowed some fragments of glass, but Kerri assured me that I'd be OK. Then again, she said that the cut on my tongue would stop bleeding after a while and it's still leaking an hour later.
Not enough to worry her, but enough to bother me. It's my tongue after all.
So Yoko, I'm remembering back to the time your pet rat bit you on the tongue. This isn't a gush of blood, but a trickle, so it's nothing to worry about and I suspect I probably won't bleed to death, but just in case, let me say that I have the fondest regard for all of you and hope you'll remember me fondly as the idiot who crunched up glass at dinner.
Where did the glass come from? Possibly the can of tomatoes, not that this makes a real lot of sense, but it's the only likely culprit, seeing as how the glass serving dish is quite intact.
Times like these I'm glad I married a doctor. She might have zero respect for other people's pain - not that my tongue is hurting - but at least she can tell me not to be worried and not to carry on like a pork chop.
I'm cooking dinner tomorrow.
If I'm still here to eat it.
