You may not want to hear this but what Im about to write is fail safe. Its true. Its money in the bank. No exceptions. What Im about to inform you of is as sure as saying Jackie Chan wakes up sore, house cats sleep through Christmas, and though they periodically try to be, local newscasts arent funny. No truer words have ever been uttered than what Ill utter on paper an inch or so below. Surely, My toes are ugly, is a statement that in most cases hits the nail on the head, but not as directly on the head as does the statement about a certain maze product Ill eventually write about in this column. If I ask a pretty gal on a date and she says, No thanks, shes not spoken words as definite as the words youll read soon here along the way. If Walter Cronkite tells you thats the way it is, you shouldnt believe him nearly as much as you should believe the thoughts Im going to pass on to you shortly. When you see a 75-year-old Floridian male driving a Corvette, and he has jet black hair, you should believe his hair is dyed, less than you should believe what I am going to offer in the following paragraph.
When any human being buys a bag of popcorn at a country fair, and when any human being eats it while theyre roaming the fair, and when any human being stops to talk with any other human being they may want or need to talk to, the human being eating the popcorn (here it is), will spit little bits of popcorn all over the face of the other person.
Popcorn spitters. Thats what I call them. They are people who spit popcorn. Heres the catch youre one of them.
Yup. Sorry. If you eat popcorn, and you talk while doing it, like it or not, youre a popcorn spitter.
You may think momma brought you up with good eating habits, and you may be right, but what you dont realize and may not believe is, when you were at the fair the other night and you bought a bag of popcorn, and you walked around the fair diving your hand time and time again delicately, but deliberately, into the popcorn bag, pulling out fistfuls of popcorn, all greezie fingered from the box up to your perpetually masticating trap, filling said trap with popped kernels, talking while you were doing it you spit popcorn on someone.
Oh yeah you did. You spit flecklits of yellow, half chewed, soggy, nineteen sided, miniscule pieces of popcorn out of your mouth like so many woodchips flinging askew from a colony of beavers on crack let loose in a spool factory, and those flecklits landed on whomever you were talking tos face, hair, shirt, boots, and watch and you did not let up for a second. You stood there jamming corn into your mouth, jabbering, and rapid fire spitting popcorn pieces all over any fair goer within six-feet of you, and you did it unknowingly.
Yes, youre a low-down-sad-grotesque, rough-around-the-edges, popcorn spitting fair goer you are, and you dont even know it.
Let me just say that popcorn spitters (myself included), arent bad people. Popcorn spitters are some of the finest, smartest, well put together people youd ever like to meet. Theyre doctors, school teachers, farmers, hydrologists, house cleaners, preachers, custodians, and toddlers. Such a diverse group are popcorn spitters that it can be said the only thing they all have in common is, spitting popcorn. To that I say Im not being critical of popcorn spitters, Im just trying to illuminate them one and all, because while most of the time were aware of the things we do, we are never aware of our spitting of the corn. We burp a nasty vinegar and peppers burp, were aware of it. We squeak out a little intestinal wind, we know it. We dont always know when we have a piece of nose waste hanging from our chin, but its not but a second that someone close will make a motion letting us become aware of it. So we take care of it. With popcorn spitters, were on your own. Were free to spit undeterred from anyone telling us were spitting popcorn. Why? I dont know. For some reason the person getting spit on will allow themselves to be corn flecked into oblivion without calling foul. I know because Im one of those people.
Standing behind my table at my booth at the fair, I danged near yanked my neck out of shape dodging so many bits of soaked popcorn, that when Id get home Id have to hang upside down for an extra hour to restraighten my spine. Id be twitching and tweaking my body so bad when listening to a popcorn spitter, that the folks from the civil union booth across from me told me they thought I had turrets.
Of course the gal who worked for me, pretty as a picture she was, took the worst of it, because I became so adept at dodging the popcorn schmegma, that it all ended up coming to rest on her. After a particularly slurpish episode from a popcorn spitter whod that day forgotten to insert her false teeth, I looked back at Alicia, the tall, thin, sexy, pretty as a picture girl who worked for me, and all I saw was a giant ear of corn.