I remember it like it was yesterday. I came home from a grueling day of baseball practice proceeded by an even worse day of school. “What’s for dinner mom?” I shouted as I blasted through the door with my dog Chase at my side. “Red beans” mom said, “and go wash up” I heard as I was running to the bathroom. I was so hungry, it seemed like forever since I last ate. I ran to the table and sat down at my place. What was this? I thought to myself. This did not look like red beans. “Mom, what is this?” I said as the hunger pains were welling up in my stomach. “Why these are baby red beans” she said as coolly as a used car salesman on a Detroit auto lot. I looked back down at my plate. Could it be? Was this some exotic legume I did not know about? OK I thought, succumbing to my hunger. I took a bite. “Do you like them?” mom said. “They are alright, don’t taste like red beans though.” I replied. As I ate, the hunger soon faded and I decided I wasn’t much into dinner anymore. “Go clean your plate and get ready for bed” she said with a grin of a Chelsire cat. I took my plate and what was left to scrape off into the garbage can. The horror, oh the horror, there in the garbage staring up at me were two empty cans of field peas like some severed head to be discovered at the scene of a crime. I turned to my mom, the innocence of my youth tattered in ruins, “you lied to me” I said with a tremble in my voice. “Oh don’t be a baby” she chuckled, “now go to bed.”
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