Playing With My Food

I think "don't play with your food" is pretty much a universal rule for most households. Well, we either didn't have that rule, or my parents just never noticed me doing it.

Take third grade for example. Every single day for lunch I had the most bland peanut butter sandwich ever created, some random healthy thing that I'd never eat, and a Capri Sun. To put in perspective how old that got, if I had some sort of pretzels or Goldfish in my lunch box, it was a big deal. So it's no wonder that I...erm..."played" with my food. It kept things interesting.

As you can imagine... most of my classmates avoided sitting at any table within fifty feet of me. Except for the awesome people of course.

But how could I stop there? I mean, if the destruction of the crappy sandwich was so much fun, just imagine the possibilities! But obviously, I wasn't allowed to run rampant around the house torturing different food items at my disposal. No... I had to find the perfect target.

This led me to one very important day at the grocery store.

I can kinda be considered a very creative person. For example, when most people saw thirty sticks of asparagus bundled together with a rubber band, I saw a machine gun. And you can bet that I, nor the rest of my siblings for that matter, would ever pass up the opportunity to have an asparagus machine gun "war", right in the middle of the store. Complete with sound effects.

Alas, this food would not do, for the "bullets" that the asparagus fired were only imaginary. And besides, there wasn't any physical dismemberment involved in which to maniacally laugh at. And thus, my search continued.

Well, Mom had already checked out, and by this point I had forgotten all about my bloodlust toward food and was just ready to get home and eat... until I found out what was for dinner.

It wasn't until I bit the head off of my brontosaurus and double-dipped it into the ketchup that I realized it was perfect. Not only was the ketchup the appropriate color, but it was also just the right consistency to act as a sort of 'glue'. This led to me dismembering the poor nugget at all of it's key limbs, then re-gluing it back together with the ketchup so that it was seamless again... and then hacking into pieces again to see the "blood" on the inside.

And this is the story of how all dinosaur nuggets became known to us as "dino bloodies".