It was upon the night of the ninth of June, twelve years past the second millennium, that this oddity so rudely occurred. This recollection is my own, and I grant that only one other may corroborate my tale: Mme. S——. The night was not particularly young, and Selene was well on her way into her nightly journey.
The urge came upon me to fix some form of edibles, for it had been some hours since I had last dined. I freely admit, the quality of those recipes that come from my head are not always of the most ordinary sort. Not to say that they lack quality, but they are not the type that one would flaunt in view of those trained in the culinary arts. On the evening in question, however, it came into my head that a recipe of surpassing uniqueness should be developed, yet, I was not inclined to take upon myself the awkward task of compiling, using, and washing so many dishes as to make the situation unnecessarily lengthy. I decided, after some thought, to create a new recipe for the popping of corn–the usual use of butter and popcorn salt becoming quite quotidian.
Had I been under any deep conviction or devotion to my task, I would have endeavored to scour the cabinets much more thoroughly. As I have hinted before, however, I did not wish to lengthen the process by any means. So, with nary a thought as to the olfactory results of such a concoction, I created what I thought would be a supreme triumph of kitchen-work. Here I was deceived, yet only in part. To be certain, the taste itself was quite unique, and not at all in a negative fashion. The smell emitted from such a mixture, however; that was a dreadful result! The punishment for my crimes was indeed the very result of my actions.
I would lay out before my readers the exact mixture used in the formulation of this disaster, were I not afraid of harming others without a thought for their own noses. I shall keep it a secret, though, and no evidences shall be kept as to hint at the spices used in the making of that hideous dish.
Read this note and keep it as a warning to yourself and others. Beware of what you mix in a pot. The stove holds more dangers than one might first imagine.
This week was Spring Break. It was fantastic to be able to get extra sleep, complete enough schoolwork to feel satisfied, and make an attempt at cooking a passable meal. It’s been great! Today though, something happened which has irreversibly altered my state of mind. It has caused me to question the meaning of life and look at things through a different lens. I remembered that evil does exist in this world. I found that everything is not coming up roses. Sadly, I realized that everyone does not want to be my friend.
You see, today I rediscovered a horrible travesty towards mankind. I found, in my hand, a Buttered Popcorn Jelly Belly. I know, it is terrible. I understand; I did not mean to scare you so. I’m sorry; I will not mention it again. But I had to tell someone. I had to see if anyone understood how this tragic incident has affected my life. I wanted you to know that if you too have been afflicted by this terror, there are people who understand. Please don’t feel alone when you find a Buttered Popcorn mixed into your jelly beans. You will survive; just know, you will never be the same.
Note: If you do like Buttered Popcorn Jelly Bellys, please know that I still accept you as a person. I cannot, however, continue as your friend. I’m sorry it had to end this way, but we can’t go on in this state of denial. Goodbye. I will miss you. (But not your culinary tastes.)