In college, I ran around in between classes without lunch. Hungry, I grabbed a Snickers bar because that’s what the commercials/subliminal messages encouraged me to do. As I rushed into a packed classroom, I sat down, only to realize in sheer panic, that there was a giant piece of candy bar on my arm.
Stuck in the middle of the row, I looked left and right to see if anyone was looking in my direction. Then, I did the unthinkable, I reached down and licked my arm. I didn’t have a napkin. I just couldn’t miss this class so I proceeded with life as usual and kept taking notes.
Later that day, I called home, telling my mom and sister the story. As I described the melting chocolate, my sister yelled into the phone, “Stop! It’s like you have made the chocolate come to life. I am smelling Snickers!”
In response, my mom yelled back at my sister: “Oh, nope, that’s because of your father!” My sister turned to my mom for further explanation and as I listened, I couldn’t help but laugh. “He was on the phone, eating chocolate and actually fell asleep. The chocolate melted into the phone!” my mother explained.
I would have preferred my sister think I’m just so good at telling stories that I make them come to life. Alas, my mother, always the realist, knew her roommate, my father, all too well, after all these years — I wondered would lick the chocolate from the phone or use some Windex to clean it instead…