I just made a terrible, terrible mistake. I mean to say, I’ve made a few unwitting errors in my life (and a few of them were fun and maybe, arguably, worth it) but this one was particularly egregious and unforgivable. By me, at least.
For if you are going to make a mistake it’s best to make sure it hurts somebody else rather than bite the mistake-maker (i.e. me) in the ass.
What I did was buy some ice cream. An agreeable and innocent thing to do on a warm day. Rather than make a further purchase of my default flavor – vanilla, to suit my pathologically bland personality – I noticed an item called ‘Tiger Tail’. Hoo boy. ‘Orange’ ice cream (which I love and is terribly rare and obviously endangered) with a little dark stripe going through it. Really ‘cute’ ice cream. So, I made the purchase and took it home with me thinking of Hobbes from ‘Calvin and Hobbes’.
Just as I was about to drop it in the deep freeze I was struck with a sensation of unease that nearly bordered on panic. I scrutinized the label closely. The pretty stripe, which logic had dictated to me must be chocolate, turned out to be ‘licorice’ — the most disgusting flavor known to humankind. I fell into a near faint when I realized what I had done.
Why is there licorice? It’s awful. Licorice anything is despicable, and to taint ice cream in such a manner – especially orange ice cream – should surely be illegal in a civilized society.
I revile all manner of licorice. Licorice whips, licorice candy, and the most loathsome of all, ‘licorice all-sorts’, the liver of candy. I cannot believe that there are people who purchase such obnoxious confections and are otherwise entitled to breed and to vote.
I think I need to go and lie down for a while, feeling a bit mollified that I have a bit of remaining vanilla.