With the Easter season fast approaching, candy has been sprouting up and blooming on myriad desks around my office like so many spring flowers. This morning I was offered a pink Peep marshmallow chick, from an equally pink clad employee. I asked her if the Peeps had been left out for a while, because I prefer slightly stale Peeps. Luckily, they had been on her desk for a number of days. Which just made me think… I wonder if Peeps could be used as an embalming fluid? Sweet and delicious, right to the grave. Anyway, I greedily ripped a Peep from her sisters, wide-eyed and reminiscent of when the Easter bunny left a cellophane-wrapped basket near the fireplace during my youth. I then swiftly bit the head off the Peep, and swallowed it quickly. Next I took my time nibbling and enjoying the sugary goodness that the body contained. As I licked each finger to sufficiently gather every last granule of dyed sugar into my maw, I looked up to see looks of horror on the faces of my co-workers standing around me.“Do I have some Peep on my face?” I asked, feeling a bit self conscious.
“Why did you just eat the Peep that way?” an aghast employee asked.
“What way?” I wondered.
“It looked very methodical. Almost planned.”
“Oh. Well, when I was a kid, I would imagine that the Peeps were real. I would bite the head off first, to put the peep out of its misery. Then I would be able to enjoy the rest of it without causing undo pain to the Peep.” I explained. “I guess old habits die hard.”
Sometimes I wonder what it is that others just don’t get about me.