PEAS!
I've always hated those little buggers. As a child, I had a fairly normal relationship with my parents. I never considered them cruel with exception of forced consumption of english peas. I would attempt to swallow them whole, chased with a gulp of beverage to mask any pea that might prematurely detonate near a taste bud. Unfortunately, their time delayed cluster bomb like explosions in my stomach would later give hours of wretched english pea flavored burps.
As I've matured, I've learned to overlook the occasional english pea from any main course that might be seasoned with them. But even adults can crack when exposed to too much of their vile presence.
Last night I'm enjoying the flaky goodness of my Pepperidge Farm chicken pot pie...the rich smell of the gravy filling me with anticipation. I dig in with my fork and pull a tasty morsel only to see that it is terribly infested with english peas. Normally, there is a pretty even distribution of those nasty little poison pills. And the few that land on my fork can be overlooked as the rest of the pot pie nummies overpower their evil effects. But last night's pie was a bit of a Poisson distribution anomaly...it was awash in green spherical land mines. I starred down at those little green monsters...and...something snapped. I could feel it, like HAL slowly losing his mind, I could feel rationality slipping away. THEY HAD TO GO.
With surgical precision I proceeded to prod through my pie. Grooming each of the unpalatable parasites and placing them a little mountainous pile. My inspection would be thorough and complete until all those little weapons of mass destruction were accounted for and disposed of making the pie safe for consumption.
In the end my pie was cleansed of all its sins. I breathed a sigh of relief. My faculties began to return. And all was well.
However, I am thinking of starting a crusade to have english peas banned from pot pies. All I need is a good spokesperson...maybe Sally Struthers or Martha Stewart.
