Apparently I missed the mark on the story yesterday being funny. I’ll try again.
Growing up I loved popcorn. The family had a hotair popcorn maker. Every Friday (maybe Thursday) night, we would watch the Dukes of Hazzard or the A-Team. I would make the popcorn. I’d lie on the couch, Tim would get a corner of the couch or the floor, Dad his chair. Mom wasn’t a huge fan of those shows, but often was in the room too. It was a family ritual.
So the popcorn was a scoopful of popcorn, a melted slice of butter between 1/8 and 1/4 of a cup, and a sprinkling of salt.
Then I got braces. With braces you look funny. You mumble when you talk (more than normal). And you have to restrict your diet. No cobbed corn. No apples. No popcorn. I’m not sure what the worst part was. The lack of popcorn or the fact the the backs of my orthodontists fingers were hairy. (Eww.)
I was in braces for approximately 500 years. Or so it seemed. All around me people ate popcorn. Ate popcorn by the bucketful. Cruel, cruel people.
Finally one day we went to GP and had the braces removed. That evening I had invited folks over for a popcorn party. I made extra popcorn. Two scoops worth. I melted extra butter. A bit too much butter. I didn’t estimate very well for the extra people, but I was fine with that. I liked my popcorn buttery.
I have to admit that I think I ate most of the popcorn. I’m not sure what else we did that evening. My focus was the popped kernels.
Now the infamous part is coming up. When we were done the popcorn, there remained in the bottom of the popcorn bowl a small puddle of buttery, popcorny, salty goodness. I was a machine. After so long with nothing, I wanted to waste none of my popcorn feast.
So I finished the butter in the bottom of the bowl as well. To the horror of the onlookers, I raised the bowl and swallowed the remnants. Very unhealthy and I’ve never lived it down. But the experience was a complete one.
Delayed gratification is the best kind. I highly recommend you all get braces so that you can have some as well.