So the other day at the Farmer’s Market (see Farmer’s Market entry) Josh made a Fruit Find that would startle the love child of Salvador Dali and Courtney Love. It was labelled “Hand of Buddha” and it came with its own mystical soundtrack. When I lifted it up a gong rang out and an ancient voice whispered: “Behold the Hand of Buddha!”
I took it home and put it on my counter. I heard the gong. Then the voice: “Young Gourmet must wait to eat Hand of Buddha. Young Gourmet must wait until Tuesday.”
Since I had posted a great deal on Sunday and Monday I figured this was a good plan.
Then Tuesday (today) came around and I went to check on my Hand of Buddha. Here is what I saw:
“Oh no!” I said. “The Hand of Buddha is moldy!”
The gong rang out. The voice: “It is not mold, Young Gourmet. It is gift of gods. You must eat the mold of the Hand of Buddha.”
Lauren walked over. “What the HELL is that?”
“It’s a hand of Buddha,” I answered.
Lauren: “It’s moldy.”
Me: “I know.”
Lauren: “Throw it out.”
The voice: “Young Gourmet must not throw out Hand of Buddha. This is very bad thing.”
“Well,” I said to Lauren. “I could just cut the mold off–”
“I am not letting you do that,” answered Lauren. “And don’t put that thing back on the counter.”
I threw the Hand of Buddha in the garbage.
Loud gong. “THE HAND OF BUDDHA IS MUCH AGGRIVATED. THE HAND OF BUDDHA SHALL STRIKE–”
“Shut up, Hand of Buddha,” said Lauren.
The garbage can grew quiet. I went and ate a homemade marshmallow.
