Sunday, February 29, 2004

The Onion Sandwich

In my youth, I awoke on a Saturday morning with a vicious hangover that demanded heroic measures. For reasons that now escape me, I decided to treat it with an onion sandwich. Perhaps I thought that it would take away the terrible taste in my mouth that then seemed like a reinforced brigade of the Ethiopian Camel Corps had spent the night encamped on my tongue. Maybe I was filled with remorse at having shown such poor judgement and self-discipline in the previous evening's alcohol consumption, and was determined to punish myself. On the other hand, it may have been simple stupidity. I do not recall the details; only that it seemed like a good idea at the time. In any event, I searched the fridge for the largest onion I could find.
(I likely chose the most lethal of the lot as well, for I knew precious little about onions both then and now.) I cut some really thick slices,
lubricated the bread liberally with mayonnaise, and ate the entire sandwich.

CAUTION: A professional idiot was used to create these images on a closed course. DO NOT attempt to perform these events in your own home.

For the next several days it seemed I was treated to a reprise of that sandwich with every breath I took, and each time I exhaled. It wasn't pretty. Fortunately, this is the kind of mistake that need only be made once in any given lifetime.

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