Memory Monday: Chinese Poison

This story shares the same properties of most medical conditions: It’s embarrassing, but it needs to be told. (Mostly for my love of dramatizing the heck out of my pathetic, embarrassing endeavors. ;)

First off, I’m not really what you’d call a pessimist. I’m normally somewhat optimistic with bouts of short-lived pessimism. I guess you could say that I’m like Oregon: I could be sunny one moment and rainy the next. I also tend to jump to conclusions.

So with that knowledge, we can move on to the story where I was almost poisoned by Chinese people (or something like that...)

When I was 13, my sister, Karissa, started taking up art lessons.The studio was located in a little shopping center with several stores, delis and random surrounding businesses. It became something we’d all look forward to: Karissa would have her fill of acrylics and canvases, we’d all walk around for a while and look at the other stores, and if we didn’t wait at the deli during the lesson, we’d stop there afterwards and have lunch.

The deli was right next to the studio, and was owned by one of the nicest Asian couples ever. They were always very cheerful and welcoming, had really good food, and a great collection of fashion magazines I read through while we waited for Karissa. I don’t remember us talking to the owners a *ton*, but I remember my mom and the owner’s wife chatting and enjoying each other’s company on a few occasions.

It was one week in particular that I might have, more or less, distorted this sweet little picture into some sort of psychotic tale from a poorly-directed "Lifetime" movie.

It was your typical day in April, right before Easter. We had our typical art class day, and while we waited for her, we made our typical stop at the deli. Mom visited with the deli lady again (I don’t think we ever got her name...), and we sat and ate our sandwiches. By the time we were ready to leave, “Nice Asian Deli Lady” offered us some Easter candy from a basket. We eagerly obliged her by taking some (I mean... we didn’t want to be *rude*...). We thanked her, then we went happily on our way to pick up Karissa.

Before we left the parking lot, we all just sort of sat in our car. I handed Karissa her piece of candy, and went to open mine.

I remember the wrapper looked a little unusual, almost somewhat peeled open... but I didn’t really say anything. I opened it up and popped my bite-sized peanut butter cup into my mouth. But something was still amiss.

“Hm...” I said out loud, “This tastes kind of funny...”

“Maybe they poisoned it!” Karissa teased.

I laughed it off, but there was something about the suggestion that hung humid in the damp caves of my mind. You know... that part of your brain where all the dark, haunting things remain?

I brushed it off and ate more candy.

It wasn’t until later that something felt... off. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I just felt kind of... weird...

Then I started to get a headache.

It was at that point that my previously ridiculous thought I had earlier clawed its way out of the dark caves of my mind and started to gnaw at my logic. The words echoed in my head once more... “Maybe they poisoned it!”

Maybe... they poisoned it...

...Poisoned...

Oh my gosh. I’ve been poisoned!

See, at this point my logic had only been slightly injured by its attacker, so I still didn’t want to look like an idiot in worrying about it too much. So I started out calm. “Hey mom... I know this might sound dumb... but do you think there was something... *wrong*... with the candy I ate at the deli? I feel kind of weird.”

She assured me that everything was fine, and she didn’t think it was anything to be worried about.

I waited a little bit, then I asked her again, just to make sure.

The battle between my logic and worry raged on, and it wasn’t looking pretty. At this point, logic had lost its limbs, and was inching helplessly away from the beast who sought after its life. What if she were wrong? What if her daughter has been poisoned and she’s just letting it go?

So I asked her again. And again. And possibly again after that. She didn’t care! Why wasn’t she worried? Horror stories I was told of deranged psychos messing with kids’ Halloween candy came into play at some point.

Alas, worry had completely ingested logic, leaving behind nothing but a few sad, useless remains.

It was at that point I was a blubbering pile of worry, crying on the bathroom floor and awaiting my impending death that was to come at any moment. I was so young... oh, woe was my judgement that led me to eat that tainted candy!

My mom finally found me and was able to console me, and I began to feel a little better about the whole situation.

I finally calmed down and called it a night, slipping into my nice, warm covers and watching a movie.

...Only to be awakened by a fever and the chills.

Yeah. Wanna know the real reason I felt weird? It wasn’t because I was poisoned by sweet, Asian deli owners.

I had the flu.

So... next time you see me worrying about something that sounds completely ridiculous, just slap me. Hold nothing back. I’ll probably thank you later.

Photo Cred:

Skull

Piggy