My child is a monster.
Not really, he’s actually a pretty cool kid (not biased, or anything), but he introduced me to something today that I’m not sure if I can forgive him for. He’s eight, so poop jokes are still at the top of his comedic list (mine too), but he bought a pack of Jelly Belly jellybeans intended for a game. It’s called BeanBoozled. The game itself is pretty harmless, you spin a dial, no one really wins or loses (everyone loses), and the basis behind the game is this: there are eight different colored beans. Each bean has a duplicate, for instance: Coconut is white, but so is spoiled milk. Pear is green, but so is booger. Strawberry Banana Milkshake is a pinkish, with red flakes, but it’s also dead fish. You get where I’m going.. Needless to say, they taste awful. Atrocious. Outrageous. Horrible. Despicable. I can keep dropping synonyms on you long enough to describe my disdain, but you’d end up leaving the page.
Carrying on. So, my wife, myself, and my son, sit down to play this game. Opening bean, I get spoiled milk. If you have children, chances are that they’ve left an unattended cup of milk sitting around somewhere, or you dropped a bottle you were too lazy to get, and it turned into this gelatinous monster worthy of appearance on Scooby Doo. Yep. Tasted just like it smelled. I spit it out and considered how much of a drop on his worth-table I would take if I noped out of the game altogether. But, alas, I persevered. Why, I don’t know.
Next, my wife took hers. It was either chocolate pudding or canned dog food. I’ll bet you guess which one she got… nope, canned dog food. Her luck sucks as bad as mine does. Worse than mine, however, she finished hers, swallowed it, and we were all stuck smelling her breath for a few minutes until it subsided. If she reads this, she’ll know that I thought at that time: “Gosh, what sacrifices did you have to make on the nights when your parents said ‘Eh, whatever you can find is dinner’. Mm. Alpo.”
This went on and on until she got Moldy Cheese. It spelled the beginning of the end. She actually, factually, and literally went and vomited. She quit and kept score between my son and I. (I had the most points, by the way.) The game actually ended when my son got the dead fish bean… smelled like a ruined can of sardines.
Let me just tell you. I won’t be playing that game again. As I’m writing this, I’m still wondering why I went through with it.
FYI: The featured image made me kind of sick to my stomach.
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash
T.G. Neal 