Chocolate Coated Imposters

The grass appears to look greener on the other side until you get there and realize that it's not grass at all, only a bunch of weeds.  Tend to the garden you planted at home, you will reap the harvest of a beautiful yield and be happy with the fruits of your labors.  Don't be lured in by faults temptations and cheep imitation when you already have the real deal waiting for you at home.  


Chocolate Coated Impostors are everywhere...

I don’t know if I can keep this deep dark secret from my husband any longer.  It all started so innocently one day when I was on my way to the 7-11 convenience store to get a power drink.  I was walking down the candy isle when I heard a neatly wrapped dark chocolate candy bar calling out to me and I couldn’t resist the sugar highs.  I tried to ignore his sweet advances, but he looked so handsomely delicious in that colorful shiny wrapper with the bright label.   

At first I was flattered that any candy bar would take the time to look my way, but then I became infatuated with his sweet dark whisperings in my sugar starved ears.  It was plain to see that our feelings were mutual and although he was not a Big Hunk, I couldn’t resist his sweet flirtations! 

He introduced himself as Mr. Goodbar and his complements were flowing from his nutty center like a chocolate melting melody and I was caught up in the magic of the moment.  His words were beguiling as he tempted me with his pure refined sugar and cocoa bean extract, but I yielded to Mr. Goodbar’s affections.  

Immediately, I thought about my wonderful husband waiting patiently at home for me to return.  He had trusted me to go straight to the coolers for a power drink and here I was alone in the candy isle, with this sweet temptation!  I turned to leave and that’s when Mr. Goodbar called me his sugar momma.  I could see that his outer layer of chocolate was melting with affection for me.  

What was happening? I thought.  I was so ashamed, I grabbed my power drink, slapped my money on the counter and ran out of the store.  When I got home my husband was waiting up for me and I could tell he had sugar suspicions in the back of his mind.  When he asked what had taken me so long, I lied to him! 

What was I supposed to do?  I couldn’t tell him the truth, he would be heart broken if he found out I was alone in the candy isle with this thin, dark chocolate stranger, so I hid the ugly truth!  That night I couldn’t sleep because of this dark and sticky situation I had gotten myself into.  My family and friends would be disappointed and heart broken when they found out about my dark secret. 

The next day I found myself driving straight to the 7-11, I was having a sugar rush from a cinnamon roll I had for breakfast and it weakened my resistance.  I don’t know why I would let this cheep dark imitation override my common sense, but again I found myself in the candy isle at the 7-11.  

My heart was fluttering as I walked down the isle and then I heard his familiar whispers calling for me.  I slowly turn around and noticed my charming chocolate coated friend sitting on the top shelf directly in front of me.  

 “Hello, Mr. Goodbar you’re looking rather sweet today.”   

We were almost eye to wrapper when I heard the “snickers” of all the other candy bars in the isle. 

“Did you tell them about us?” I said in a frustrated tone.

The snicker didn’t stop and they began taunting me with their 220 calories and 32 fat grams!  The pressure was intense and coming at me from all directions like jelly bellies from the chamber of a gun.  They were throwing chocolate kisses at me and I felt cheep and ashamed!  What kind of a girl did they think I was?  This was only my second time in the candy isle and already I was getting a reputation for being a trashy sweet tooth.

Just then I heard the voice of my husband, who was standing only a few feet away from me and Mr. Goodbar! 

“What are you doing here in the candy isle, I thought you always went straight to the cooler for a health power drink?” 

I bit my bottom lip and I was praying that Mr. Goodbar and his friends would keep their chocolate comments to themselves! 

“Ah, ummm, I was just passing through the candy isle on my way to the coolers for a power drink!  What are you doing here?”  

He looked at me with his loving eyes, but somewhere deep inside, I could tell he knew something wasn’t right.  It broke my heart to see the look on his face and then he spoke with powerful words that were not sugarcoated. 

“I was worried about you.  I just wanted to let you know how much I love you and it’s not worth losing our family over this cheep imitating and sugar high!”

My chin dropped and my eyes stared at the floor.  I was ashamed that I had let myself fall to this level.  I could lose the love and respect of my husband and my sugar baby's who were waiting at home for me - all because of the dark side of chocolate!    I couldn’t speak and tried to hide within my sugar denial, but then my faithful husband broke the dark silence.

 “I bought you a chocolate cheese cake and it’s in the car.  Sweetheart, let’s go home.”  

He wrapped his arms around me and we started to leave the store when we noticed a young woman walking down the candy isle on her way to the chips and crackers.  Then we heard the infamous Mr. Goodbar calling out to her with his dark temptations.  I got a sick feeling in the pit if my stomach.  My husband was right, Mr. Goodbar was a cheep imitation of the real deal and I was just another pretty face in the isle at the 7-11!    by, Linda Sumner Urza

Booger John!

Several years ago we had an exchange student from Spain named Lourdes living in our home.  One evening I was sharing the traditions of Halloween with her.  I was excited to tell her about all the events surrounding this holiday and the amount of fun children have with their imaginations.   When I finished explaining these things to her, she looked at me with a confused expression on her face and then she asked.  

“Are you telling me that you dress your children up like monsters?   You send them out into the dark streets at night and while you wait at home, they go to stranger’s houses asking for candy?”  

“Ummm yea...pretty much.”  I replied.

Obviously, there was something lost in translation, because Halloween didn’t sound nearly as fun and exciting when she said it back to me!   I had planned on telling her about the spooky carved faces on our pumpkins and how we decorate with bats, witches, ghosts and goblins, and put tombstones in our yards, but I kept that information to myself  (I didn’t want her to think we were going to suck the life from her veins while she was asleep in our home)!  I took off my witch hat, put down my broom and changed the subject. 

What made me think of this experience with Lourdes was a call I got yesterday from my daughter.  She relayed a frightening experience my three year old grandson had earlier that morning.  They were on the computer together looking at Halloween cartoons when she left the room for a moment to answer the phone.  He clicked on something that scared him half to death!  He started screaming in holy terror and scrambled up the flight of stairs into her loving arms.  My daughter was taken aback by his response and went downstairs to see what had frightened him so severely!  

She saw that he had clicked on a clip from The Nightmare Before Christmas and the background music was a scary Halloween song being sung by the groveling, demonic voice of Marilyn Manson!   It had scared him out of his wits; imagine having a voice so intense that it resonates fear into the hearts of little children and they flee in holy terror.  My daughter said she had to put soft angelic music on to neutralize his brain!

Don’t you remember being scared to death as a child?  Boy I do.  Once I was frightened from infinity and beyond!   When you’re a child, that level of fear is short of a lobotomy and it stays in the mind forever.

The most frightening thing in my life was one Halloween night when I overheard my older brothers and sisters telling a horrifying story.  It was so scary that it shattered my sense of well being and sent chills riveting down my spine!  This was a legend that had been handed down from generation to generation in my neighborhood; there was no way I could ever escape it’s ugly grasp.  This scary monster was so frightening that the very mention of his name sent a wave of trembling fear from house to house and even my dog was so terrified that we hid together underneath the bed! 

This frightening tale was that of a dead man called Booger John, who made the Wolfman, Frankenstein, and Dracula look like cake decorations.  Booger was from the grave and the mental images that formed in my mind were wild and vivid.  His clothes were torn and covered with dirt, he had worms crawling around in his eye sockets and the rest of his face and body was oozing with rotting flesh.  I don’t know where this legend came from, but I can tell you where it went!  

Booger John was a walking corpse right out of the cold, damp grave.  He was buried alive by a man with a patch on one eye and had only two fingers on his right hand.  (Now, if Booger John didn't scare the jaheebees right out of me, the man with one eye and two fingers did,  because he was wandering around out there too!)   

That fateful night when Booger was being buried alive by a man with one eye, there was a child who took a short cut through the graveyard and witnessed the shocking scene!  The legend has it that Booger John is still looking for answers.  He waits until dark, slips out of his grave and wanders aimlessly through the city looking for that one child and believing this child has the answers to the murder.  Booger John searches endlessly, night after night and it's just a matter of time before he finds your house!!!  Wait!  It gets worse, the one eye man is afraid of Booger John finding him, so he hides in your closets and under your beds!   

OKAY, OKAY OKAY!  There is nothing more vivid in detail than a child's imagination and Booger reigned fear and terror in mine.  The image of him was permanently etched in my brain with a hot branding iron and some of the scar tissue is still there today!  

Now that I'm an adult, I realize there are bigger boogymen in the world I live in today than Booger John, such as the IRS, collection agencies,  poverty, illiteracy, discrimination, politicians, war, and the list goes on and on.   I am no longer afraid of graveyards, (although, I am in no hurry to reside there)  it’s the living that present the dangers in life, not the dead.  I still love, love, love Halloween and believe there is a little child in all of us screaming to come out and play. 

    by, Linda Sumner Urza, One Fine Day

Cellular Attraction.

My life is never boring and I’ve had the most bizarre and random experiences happen to me in my lifetime, but this one takes the cake! 

I’ve owned the same cell phone for years, and I am attached to all its features.  It’s the original Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone, and it’s such a great little phone that over the years I’ve worn the printed lettering off the buttons.  It’s scratched, dinged, bruised, and chipped, but it can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.  

My children teased, “Fred Flintstone came by and he wants his old phone back.”  Oh, that’s really hilarious, but wait until you hear the rest of the story, it’s no laughing matter.  It’s true, I’m a creature of habit and I stick with the things that work for me.  I believe if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it!

Last year, I let my husband pressure me into a free upgrade, (totally against my better judgement) and I headed to the Sprint store to pick out a new phone.  It was excruciating for me and I haven’t been stressed out like that for a long time!  I felt like I was betraying a loved one.   

Reluctantly, I started browsing through the phones.  There were hundreds to choose from and they came in all colors, shapes, and sizes.  This was serious business for me.  I used the same criteria women use for picking out a good husband.  “Would it be durable enough to hold up under pressure, would it stand the test of time, and would I fall deeply in love with all it’s features?”

Literally, two hours later I was still trying to figure out what to do.  Finally, I gave the frustrated salesperson my choice; whereupon, she did an unforgivable thing and asked me for my old phone.  I felt like she was trying to kidnap my first born! 

“Why do you need my old phone?” I replied with suspicion.  

“I need to transfer your numbers into your new phone.”  She replied.

“Do I get it back?”

“Sure, if you want it back?” 

What did she mean, “if I wanted it back,” OF COURSE I WANTED IT BACK!  What kind of person did she think I was, that phone had been my personal therapist for over three years!  I had a sick empty pit in the bottom of my stomach as I watched her suck the life out of my faithful little phone.  The strangling fingers of fate slid around my skinny chicken neck, and I could hardly stand the thought of giving up my trusty old friend.  Then she powered down my Palm 680 Treo, laid it on the counter, and handed me this lightweight, sleazy imitation of a cell phone.

The thin impostor felt like a slab of cheese in my hand compared to my Palm 680; I stared at it like a stranger from a foreign land.  I was having second, third and fourth thoughts, but the deed was already done and I had the receipt in hand!  I took it home and tried to make the best out of the worst situation!  

Later that day, I read the instruction manual and surrendered to the fact that I was determined to make it work.  When I was learning how to use the buttons, I went to the picture mode and to my surprise it identified a picture upload.  I was curious how there could be a photo in the new phone, so I pushed the button to retrieve the picture.   It was a picture of a Sprint employee flipping the bird!  I’M NOT JOKING!  A great big fat finger in my face and behind the finger was a sleazy, cheesy grin!  It was double the insult for me; I had no emotional attachments to the phone and now I felt it had the same feelings for me! 

I marched back down to the store, put the fickle finger of fate up to her nose and asked if she had given me a, “used cell phone”.  The salesperson apologized and explained that the memory card must have had the photo on it when she transferred my numbers, and it inadvertently uploaded the photo.  Yes indeedy, it was a picture of their employee sharing his IQ.   

She apologized out of both sides of her mouth, erased the picture and handed me the phone.  Well, ho dee doe!  I didn’t really want the phone back, it was tainted, and nothing she said made me feel any better about my experience.  I stuffed the skinny impostor into my purse, thanked her and left the store.

Two days later, I decided to paint my husband’s office, when the new phone rang.  I picked up the skinny impostor and propped it between my shoulder and ear; (I wanted to have both hands free to stir the paint).  While I was talking to my sister, the phone slipped out from between my ear and shoulder like a wet bar of soap, and landed in the paint can!  I immediately reach in the slimy brown paint to retrieve the phone; it was coated on all sides in Midnight Mocha latex paint.  My new cell phone looked exactly like a dipped milk chocolate candy bar! 

It’s been over a year since this experience happened and I’m proud to say that I am still using my Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone and loving it!   “Don’t hold your breath, Fred Flintstone, you won’t be getting this phone back any time soon!”  

  

Linda Sumnner Urza, One Fine Day