
She claimed that she once had a COCONUT in her kitchen, and…and…and…it exploded!
Well…my initial reaction was that this fantastic tale had nothing to do with the COCONUT next to Lisa’s kitchen stove…and everything to do with the mushrooms next to her Pink Floyd CD Box Set.
But being the investigative journalist that I am, I launched a quick Google search on the term “exploding COCONUT.”
And I’ll be damned! It has happened to others as well.
This changed the equation for me. I mean…having an exploding COCONUT do grievous harm to my body is one thing. But having one do grievous harm to my Italian-made Arrital kitchen cabinets is quite another.
So I broke-out the heavy machinery tonight and performed triple lobotomies on all four of my tasty little ticking time bombs. Three of them are roasting in the oven as I type these words.
The King, however, has NOT left the building. I’ve simply grown too fond of his sneer and mutton chops to even consider turning him into a chutney.
And besides, Trac would have my ass if I did.
So…does all this mean that my passion for COCONUT has ended?
Hell no! It’s just means that we’ll have to take [ahem!] prophylactic measures during future encounters.
Besides, nothing stimulates the passion quite like a little danger.
Leave a Reply