February 16, 2007
It’s a cliche, but it’s true: life really is like a box of chocolates. Life is often white and rectangular and wrapped in plastic, or sometimes it’s pink or red and heart-shaped. And life comes with a handy diagram that shows you where the coconut bonbon is, except that diagram doesn’t come close to matching anything that’s in the box. Life is usually missing a couple of pieces. In life the first thing you reach for, no matter how many times you try to avoid it, will always be the gummy, caramel nougat taffy goop-filled thing that coats your teeth and pulls out your fillings and that you can’t spit out because it’s stuck to your bicuspids. And when someone asks you how you like that bit of life, all you can say is, "Tuphlem gurdlephump." Life is sometimes garnished with lark’s vomit (on the list of ingredients right after monosodium glutamate), and if you took the bones out it wouldn’t be crunchy.
Life is available year-round in every drug store and convenience mart on the planet even though most people are really interested in life once or twice a year. You never find life by the checkout register with the other impulse purchase items. No one ever gets life just for themselves. When you’re done with life you’ll have a collection of little crinkly paper cups that seem like they should be useful for something else but aren’t. Life can be cheap. Life can be really expensive. When life is really expensive the first thing you grab will still always be the gummy, caramel nougat taffy goop-filled thing that coats your teeth and pulls out your fillings even though there aren’t as many of them, and the diagram will be even less helpful because it will be written in Finnish. Life is one-hundred percent recyclable.