A Heartbreaking Tale Of Sorrow, Grief and Mr. Kipling Almond Slices

When Amanda arrived home early from work, she knew there was something not quite right as soon as she put her key in the lock and pushed the front door open. The house was eerily quiet and there was a very strange smell lingering in the air. She slipped her shoes off and called for her husband. “Tobias?” she offered, hesitantly. There was no answer, but she distinctly heard some movement upstairs. She climbed the plushly carpeted stairs tentatively, still listening out for some signs of life. Walking down the hallway, she eased the bedroom door open – and there he was. Her eyes opened wide with shock and disbelief.

There was her husband of almost twenty years huddling over a camping gas stove, with a steaming pan of something bubbling away. “Tobias!” she exclaimed. Her balding husband wheeled around in panic. “Amanda!” he stuttered, “this isn’t what it looks like!” Amanda was having none of it. “You’re cooking sprouts again, aren’t you? You said you were clean! How long has this been going on?” Tobias looked panicked and sheepish as the round, green vegetables simmered in the saucepan. His head bowed. “Yes. I’m cooking Brussels Sprouts. I’m sorry, I just needed a fix. I can give up any time, though!”

Furious with anger and disappointment, Amanda lashed out, kicking over the saucepan, sending the little green vegetables flying across the floor like the dismembered testicles of alien beings. “I’ve stood by you thick and thin, Tobias, but this is the last straw. Sprouts! Again! In my bedroom and… wait… is that my best saucepan?” Tobias, wild eyed with fear, attempted to explain… “Well, yes, I didn’t mean to… it was… just… please, Amanda, don’t leave me.” Almost red with rage, Amanda didn’t wait to hear any further explanation. “I am leaving you, Tobias… and I’m taking the carrots!”

Tobias flew to his feet. “You can’t just take the carrots like that – I’ll fight you every step of the way! I’ll take you to court!”. Amanda, knowing full well that no court would grant custody of carrots to someone with a severe sprout addiction just tossed her head backwards and laughed scornfully. “I’d like to see you try! Goodbye, Tobias, I’ll see you in court!” and she flounced out, like a molested Osprey. Sobbing gently, his chest heaving and gasping, Tobias started to slowly eat the scattered sprouts from the carpeted floor, picking the carpet fluff and hairs off as he went. “Why?” he lamented, “Why?!?” The sprouts did not and could not reply, but the broccoli in the fridge did allow itself a rueful smile.

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About A.D.S.

You are reading the musings of a music-obsessed forty-something who was brought up on The Beatles, lived through Britpop and now spends his time in pursuit of the best music around. This 'blog gives me an outlet to write about the huge number of albums I buy and the many gigs I go to. All of the opinions expressed are my own and if you don't agree with me, then I understand - music is a very personal thing. I like to receive comments, especially if they're nice ones.
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