Pondering at Fourteen
My friend Charlie and I were at the grocery store in the spices section looking over the racks. We had looked over the shelves for four minutes and fifty-two seconds when Charlie turned to me.
“Bay Leaves, Nutmeg, Garlic Powder, that’s all I’m seeing. I don’t think they have it.”
“I’m sure it’s someone around here. They have twenty six varieties of seasoned salt here.”
“Well, maybe it’s not in this section.”
“I’m sure it’s in this section. It was always in this section.”
“Excuse me can I help you find something?”
Yes, the grocer store worker could help us. We were looking for something very specific. I got the craving earlier that day sitting in Charlie’s apartment.
“I want soup.”
“Ok.”
“I really want soup.”
“Then eat some soup.”
“But I don’t want just any soup. I want-”
“Wait, you don’t want-
“I’m afraid I do want-“
“Man, I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“I know me either.”
“Man, let’s get to the store.”
So we went to store. And we looked for four minutes and fifty-two seconds before the grocery store employee helped us.
“The bouillon cubes are in aisle four with the soup.”
“Oh, thanks man. You don’t know what a great deed you’ve done.”
“No problem.”
We went to aisle four and picked up the bouillon cubes. But not just any bouillon cubes. Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. Some backstory is in order: when we were little kids, my dad used to feed us soup made from bouillon cubes. Now one day Charlie gets stung by a bee. This is really bad because he’s allergic and if he's ever stung by a bee again, the doctor’s say he’ll have about fifteen minutes to live. But anyway a bee stung him and he was dying and my dad’s called 911 and they’re on their way. Now, even though Charlie’s swelling up and can hardly talk, he asks for some soup. And whaddya know my dad had been preparing some soup just then. But my dad had screwed up and instead of buying Jon’s Bouillon Cubes he bought this other kind of bouillon cubes, Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. So I go up to the stove and pour Charlie a cup of soup and hold the cup up to his mouth as he sips some of the soup. Then, magic, the swelling goes away, he starts to breath, and everything seems ok. When the doctors show up, they say he’s ok too. Nobody knew what had happened, but I did. The bouillon was there for a reason. It was fate. Y’know, Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon cubes. Charlie = Chuck. It was like Charlie’s soul was in that soup and when I fed the soup back to Charlie, I was feeding his soul. And for the next few years we ate soup made from Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. Then we kinda got sick of it and ate it less frequently. Then a few years after that, we didn’t really eat it at all. By the time I got the craving at Charlie’s apartment, we had totally forgot about the bouillon. But I had remembered. And man was I hungry.
“I don’t see it man.”
“It’s gotta be here.”
“I dunno if they make it anymore.”
“They have to make it man. It’s our bouillon, man. It’s ours. Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for a certain kind of bouillon.”
The grocery store employee looked, but could not find the brand. He would have asked the manager, but he was gone for the day. We went back the next day.
“I sort of remember that. I think we discontinued it a few years back.”
We tried a few other stores over the next couple days with no luck. Eventually we kind of forgot about the bouillon and just went on with life. The next summer I was eating some soup when a bee stung me.
“Ow”
It really hurt.
“Bay Leaves, Nutmeg, Garlic Powder, that’s all I’m seeing. I don’t think they have it.”
“I’m sure it’s someone around here. They have twenty six varieties of seasoned salt here.”
“Well, maybe it’s not in this section.”
“I’m sure it’s in this section. It was always in this section.”
“Excuse me can I help you find something?”
Yes, the grocer store worker could help us. We were looking for something very specific. I got the craving earlier that day sitting in Charlie’s apartment.
“I want soup.”
“Ok.”
“I really want soup.”
“Then eat some soup.”
“But I don’t want just any soup. I want-”
“Wait, you don’t want-
“I’m afraid I do want-“
“Man, I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“I know me either.”
“Man, let’s get to the store.”
So we went to store. And we looked for four minutes and fifty-two seconds before the grocery store employee helped us.
“The bouillon cubes are in aisle four with the soup.”
“Oh, thanks man. You don’t know what a great deed you’ve done.”
“No problem.”
We went to aisle four and picked up the bouillon cubes. But not just any bouillon cubes. Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. Some backstory is in order: when we were little kids, my dad used to feed us soup made from bouillon cubes. Now one day Charlie gets stung by a bee. This is really bad because he’s allergic and if he's ever stung by a bee again, the doctor’s say he’ll have about fifteen minutes to live. But anyway a bee stung him and he was dying and my dad’s called 911 and they’re on their way. Now, even though Charlie’s swelling up and can hardly talk, he asks for some soup. And whaddya know my dad had been preparing some soup just then. But my dad had screwed up and instead of buying Jon’s Bouillon Cubes he bought this other kind of bouillon cubes, Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. So I go up to the stove and pour Charlie a cup of soup and hold the cup up to his mouth as he sips some of the soup. Then, magic, the swelling goes away, he starts to breath, and everything seems ok. When the doctors show up, they say he’s ok too. Nobody knew what had happened, but I did. The bouillon was there for a reason. It was fate. Y’know, Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon cubes. Charlie = Chuck. It was like Charlie’s soul was in that soup and when I fed the soup back to Charlie, I was feeding his soul. And for the next few years we ate soup made from Chuck’s Fantastic Bouillon Cubes. Then we kinda got sick of it and ate it less frequently. Then a few years after that, we didn’t really eat it at all. By the time I got the craving at Charlie’s apartment, we had totally forgot about the bouillon. But I had remembered. And man was I hungry.
“I don’t see it man.”
“It’s gotta be here.”
“I dunno if they make it anymore.”
“They have to make it man. It’s our bouillon, man. It’s ours. Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for a certain kind of bouillon.”
The grocery store employee looked, but could not find the brand. He would have asked the manager, but he was gone for the day. We went back the next day.
“I sort of remember that. I think we discontinued it a few years back.”
We tried a few other stores over the next couple days with no luck. Eventually we kind of forgot about the bouillon and just went on with life. The next summer I was eating some soup when a bee stung me.
“Ow”
It really hurt.
posted by Jesse @ 1:33 AM
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