Mustard
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a
fresh bun
with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown,
Gourmet Mustard.
The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I
carried it to the table in
our backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was
stopped by my wife
suddenly at my side.
'Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my
sandwich,' she
said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder
and was reaching again or the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of
mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster.
It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my
tongue protruding
out.
With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine
shoeshine boys do,
only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard,
my wife Said, 'Now
you know why they call that fancy mustard 'Poupon.''
mustard
There are 6 replies to this message
