Bronson Bluumer is the junk food malnourished child of Lady and Ned Bluumer of Clear Creek Close in Cloverdale. Bronson isn’t allowed sugar except on holidays and his birthday. Bronson turned five yesterday. To celebrate, his dad suggested they taste the forbidden fruit and go out for ice cream. Bronson’s under worked pancreas leapt for joy. Finally, after six months it was time to prove to the brain it could, yet again, function and produce insulin.
“Ned, you know sugar is poison to the system,” Lady reminded her husband. She knew the battle was lost but she had to make an attempt to stop the soon to be overdose.
“Lady its his birthday and you promised he could have a special treat like the other boys,” Ned reminder her. Lady agreed she had made the promise and resigned herself to the fact that Bronson would soon be on the sugar high of his life.
After a supper of tofu burgers and salad, washed down with a choice of water or soy milk, the family dressed for their birthday trip to “Grumpys”. Ned waited impatiently by jumping up and down on the couch. “Can I have anything I want?” he asked over and over.
“Within reason,” Lady answered back each time he asked. “Would you please stop jumping and be a good boy?”
“I’ll stop jumping if you say I can have anything I want,” Bronson countered. He knew he needed a mutually agreed on deal before arriving. No deal and he’d be stuck with a child’s quarter scoop trial size cone. Or worse, his birthday surprise would be Grumpys’ heath conscious sugar free yogurt served in a sea weed cone.
He started screaming the song ‘Happy Birthday to You’ as he jumped higher and higher on the couch. “Ned stop him!” his mother demanded from the bathroom as she applied a few streaks of make up to her milky white complexion. She had an aversion to the sun - always afraid that skin cancer would be the result of overindulgence.
“You know what to say dear,” Ned responded from the bedroom. “Its his birthday, let him have what he wants.”
“All right Bronson, you can have anything you want!” she yelled while dabbing her mouth with cherry red lipstick. Bronson’s strategy of increasing his annoying factor paid off. He quieted down and started to dream of the 20 varieties of ice cream soon to be laid out before him.
Grumpys for Bronson is like the Wailing Wall for a Jew. He was surrounded by sugar in all its sinful varieties. Making the decision what to order was difficult until he saw a young teen age couple sharing this monstrosity of a dish called Noah’s Ark. He had to have it. Lady Bluumer let Ned do the ordering. She sat at a pink and white booth near the front window and waited. She ordered the yogurt cone. Ned ordered the one scoop hot fudge sundae and Bronson ordered the Noah’s Ark. He couldn’t believe it when the attendant reached over the counter and put the five pound dairy delight into his waiting hands. Lady Bluumer couldn’t believe it either, and was thankful she made the decision to allow these special treats only a few times a year.
Bronson ate and ate and ate. He savored every drop knowing that was it until Christmas. Twenty minutes later and three fourths of the way through the ice cream and he still hadn't reached the bottom of the bowl. His rumbling stomach convinced him to stop. Ned ate the rest. Lady took a bite or two and stopped because of a developing migraine.
Bronson’s stomach ache grew worse at home. He went to bed after taking two tablespoons of Pepto Bismol. Thirty minutes later he felt a strange sensation in his tummy. He got out of bed and walked into his parent’s bedroom.
“Mommy,” he said as he shook Lady into consciousness. She woke with a start.
“What is it honey?” she asked while rubbing feeling back into her face. “Does your tummy hurt?”
Bronson nodded. She padded the bed between her and Ned. Bronson climbed up and laid down. Lady leaned over to kiss him better on the forehead. Bronson suddenly covered his mouth and sat up quickly. Lady saw the signs of impending disaster. Out of impulse and a primal urge for self defense she turned his head toward Ned's side of the bed. A torrent sprang up from Tommy’s stomach and out his mouth. It seemed a gallon of fowl liquid fountained over Bronson's sleeping dad. Ned promptly woke up. Lady was impressed with Ned's speed. He wasn't known as an easy riser.
Next year the Bluumers will start honest negotiations a month before the birthday for a more reasonable and digestive celebration. Bronson learned a lesson he will never forget - the eyes are bigger than the stomach.
Your stories never get old! Our priesthood quoruom can't get enough of you!
ReplyDelete