So. Imagine this. You are me and you have NO insurance. None. And you're eating Triscuits and you finish the box and you get to the best part. All those yummy salty crumbs in the bottom of the bag. You run into the kitchen, grab a scissors and slice off the crinkled messed up part of the bag so you have a smooth, straight sailing, easy slide right into your mouth. How many times have you done with a bag of chips? many. You don't think that this particular time will be the time that may cause you great embarrassment and shame.
I tip the bag so that all the deliciousness goes to one side. I tilt my head back and prepare for decadence. I forgot to close my eyes realizing this after it was too late and dozens of triscuit shreds (they were cheddar flavor too so nice and fake orangey yellow and salty) poured right into my right eye. It felt like I have several shards of salty glass scratching at my eyeball.
Stew was upstairs in the den playing a computer game and I was covering my left eye and blindly flailing about in the living room trying not to DIE from embarrassment that I may have to go to the hospital because I had Triscuits in my eye. Not only would they look at me like I was uncontrollable chubby wubby who has just to put the Triscuit bag over her face like a feedbag and couldn't face the fact the bag was empty; but this was going to cost a small fortune. I'd almost rather go blind and tell people a lie like I woke up one morning and was blind in my left eye than admit I went blind because I had Triscuits in my eye.
I could not stand the pain anymore and ran up the stairs. Stew heard the clumsy stomping and opened the door to his den. I couldn't really see if he was coming so I casually screamed, "get outta my way, I have Triscuits in my eye." That's right, pal. You married Mama Cass. I'm only a good 10 years away from choking on an Italian combo. Who loves ya, baby?
Stew just stood back while I ran into the bathroom and put on the water with every intention of flushing out my eyeball. Those plans quickly ended after the first splash revealed I put on the hot water. Stew stood there looking at me and wondering what he did to commit himself to a girl who blinded herself with Triscuits.
"How did you do that?" He asked but answered his own question. "Lulu, were you pouring the bag into your mouth."
You know. I wear glasses. they should be just as good as safety goggles in events like this but apparently I contorted my head far enough back to reach Linda Blair proportions. Stellar.
"Yes," I growled at him as I inspected my eye looking for soggy bits of yellowy orange wheat shreds. "I feel something way back there."
Stew told me it would work itself out but I was convinced it was going to rot first and cause an infection in my brain and produce maggots in my head.
"Just try not to rub your eye," he warned.
Um. Okay. Easy for you to say. Your eye didn't just get sprinkled with granules of salt and dried fake cheese.
Eventually, the feeling went away. I don't know if the Triscuit bits did work themselves out or if they just got soggy enough from eye juice that they broke apart and went away. By the time I went to sleep that night, I just felt a mild scratching behind my eye. However, for some reason there was this bad itch in my ear. Surely it was a spider.
"Stew," I said from under the covers, "My ear itches. I think it's a spider."
He assured me I was wrong. "I'm sure you don't have a spider in your ear."
Hah! How does he know? I have Triscuits in my eye.