I can still remember the horror!
It was a moment when worlds collided and nothing was at it should have been. It was in the right context but the elements were way out of whack! I'll explain...
I was 10 years old and it was Thanksgiving. Grandma and Grandpa Bierce had come all the way over from Moses Lake, WA and mom had been working all morning on her famous turkey with all the fixins. I was especially excited because this was the day I got to eat stuffing... God's perfect food! American manna! Ambrosia on a plate! Add some gravy on top and it's almost a religious experience. You get the picture? I LOVE STUFFING!
It was a cold November day and winter had come a little early, which, in Montana, meant that it was right on time. Our St. Bernard, "Moose", could attest to this fact because his heaping bowl of Purina Moose Chow had frozen solid during the night. My mom brought the bowl back into the house that morning and set it on the surface of the warm stove so it could thaw. She wanted to be able to chip out the frigid mass without chipping his "unbreakable" ceramic bowl at the same time. "La la la. I'll just put this on the stove to thaw... Hum dee dum dee diddly doo... New food for Moosey... Chewy chew chew." (Mom sings a lot about everything and anything at any given moment. On weekends, every morning, she greets the neighborhood from her deck with the Sound of Music themesong, while dressed in an orange Moo Moo!) ... But I digress.
After playing a few hard hours with my G.I. Joe with the Kung Fu grip, (usually rescuing Barbi from a sudden snow bank avalanche that I instigated) I decided it was getting close to "trough time" for some serious lapping. I trudged through the snow back to the kitchen door. The Wonder Bread plastic sacks lining my golashes had long ago ceased to be effective... about three minutes after stepping into the ear-high snow. I unburied the snow broom and brushed myself off. As I opened the door, I was baptized in the aroma of Thanksgiving. Yummy! Oh... Oh... Yummy! The warm kitchen air did much to melt the stubborn bits of white that still clung to my hair. I breathed in deeply and could almost taste every dish. I scanned the area like a predator in for the kill and saw all kinds of delectable morsels just waiting for me to pounce and sample before the rest of the pack got there.
And there it was! Sitting on the stove... defenseless. Alone. Glistening. A heaping bowl of stuffing. It wasn't like I had a choice. It beckoned to me. "Come eat me Michael. I am alone and undefended. I am all yours." It was all I could do not to place my entire face right down the middle of the pile and inhale as hard as possible using every hole in my face. I grabbed the giant, wooden spanking spoon and plunged it right into the moist, steamy center. I extracted a heaping spoonful and shoved it deep into my mouth...
Hmmmmm...
After the first millisecond of taste, I proceeded to powerwretch and spew chunks and nuggets across the entire stove and the facing wall. My tongue went numb because it couldn't comprehend the horrible thing that my body was doing. WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?! screamed my mind as I struggled to stay erect despite the gut-shaking dry heaves. The flavor demons from Hades were having their millenium convention on my tongue! "Mommy!" I screamed. "This (Hack!) stuffing (Gag!) tastes (wretch) like (Heave) dog food! (Purge)".
Mom was already on her way to the kitchen because she had heard my sphincter-purging, soul anguish only moments earlier. After all... the wet projectile SPLAT! against the wall wasn't a typical Thanksgiving sound. When she saw what had occurred, her hand flew to her mouth and with a horrified gasp she began laughing hysterically at me. Who was this woman and what had she done with mommy?!
Later on, after a mixing up a gallon or two of Peptomismal followed by Listerine chasers with Tums used instead of icecubes, she explained it all to me; how I had mistaken the thawing dog food for stuffing. Same color... same texture... It was sitting on the stove. I explained to her that I thought she did it on purpose and that she was a cruel mother with a sick and twisted sense of humor. I was obviously right in my assessment of her because she still gets that twinkle in her eye every Thanksgiving when she thinks about the "stuffing incident." I still get the shakes.
Stupid dog!
