The bump on my tongue is not just the end, of my tongue. It is the beginning— dash dash dash! Of a story.- - - -
I don't know how much time you spend thinking about and trying to look at your own tongue. Me: a lot. I find it fascinating and I'm not sad to admit it. You only get one tongue so why not know it? That is my slogan or at least one of the ones I like.
My tongue has so many tiny bumps. I tried to count them once. One, two, three, four. At that point a car door slammed somewhere down the street, interrupting my reverie. I wanted to go check it out but alas was contained by these four walls in which I toil. I'm just playing— I luxuriate. Do you think that tennis balls come for free my main man? I have two tennis balls in my room and I do whatever I want with them. I make the rules and that's just how I like it. Don't come around here talking about "life is like a prison." I like carpets!
My tongue's bumps taste all the food. My tongue's bumps put the taste in my brain. Whatever I choose to put my tongue on by my own free will will then be told, to me, my brain, and mouth, based on the science of the bumps. It seems complicated but it's not. Often I do partake in a bit of food, but just as often I choose to explore this wide world of ours by licking and tasting things that have not traditionally been thought of as food. Have you ever wondered how handrails taste? I can tell you. I don't live in mystery. You only live once is what they say sometimes. Do I want to be dead in a hole, wondering how a sponge tasted? Nope, won't be me friend. I taste it all. And if I like it, I'm eating it.
And that is how I got into a very unusual situation the other day. Maybe you'd like to hear about it? Maybe you would? I'm not listening so I will continue. There are things called apples. Maybe you have eaten one before but trust me when I say that I have not. I stick to Snausages my man and don't you forget it! But that day, I don't know, something came over me. I was up on my hind legs licking the kitchen counter, out of curiosity, and there was a big green apple there, and I just turned my head sideways and sunk my incisors into its firm flesh and plucked it right into my grasping mouth. Gnawed at it for a while and let me tell you the truth: it tasted weird. I would be willing to wager that there is not one piece of meat in an entire apple. Taste like water that sat too long in the steel barrel out back until lots of flies had died in it. I rapidly decided not to eat the rest of the apple and that my apple exploration days were over. It's just not for me. The only drawback to this whole situation, you see, is that the flesh of the apple had secured itself so tightly to my once-eager teeth that I was not able to get it out of my mouth. It was stuck in there. My canines were like toothpicks and the apple was the appetizer and the two could not be separated. I tried to push the apple out the front of my mouth with my tongue. This succeeded only in causing me to taste the nasty apple more. I detected a hint of old turpentine, maybe, but nothing that made me want to give the apple a second chance as food. In fact it just reaffirmed my belief that an apple is a bad thing to have in your mouth. It made me want the apple out of my mouth immediately. It was stuck in there good. So I shook and I shook and I shook. I shook my head side to side. It was violently! Shaking my head and the apple was stuck in my mouth and my lips were hitting the apple and I was tasting the nasty apple over and over again. Eventually that old apple went flying off my teeth with a Pop! and hit the bottom cabinet door, denting it (the apple). I ambled on away to better business.
You know who I bet likes apples, is a raccoon. They are disgusting.
[Image by Jim Cooke]