Laugh at me #2: This Fudge Tastes Like Soap

 

For my next embarrassing story I'm going to tell about a moment of pure disappointment. It all started at the Maple Leaf Parade in Carthage Missouri. The wife and I were taking a very rambunctious Boys and Girls Club kid, Kayli, who was very excited about the parade. Her excitement rubbed off on the two of us, and I was pretty hyper about a parade I'm usually indifferent about. We always begin our Maple Leaf experience by touring the booths and buying amazing items that you could not find in stores. Who wouldn't want a pajamas knitted for your cat, a clear dolphin filled with colorful sand, or an airplane made out of pop cans! Immediately Kayli and I noticed one of the most amazing booths that the Maple Leaf had to offer. To sweaten the deal a sign beckoned us with its two simple words. FREE SAMPLE! Kayli and I both looked at one another and yelled, "FREE FUDGE!" We ran to the booth. I didn't notice anything but the beautiful pieces of mint chocolate fudge. 

They looked delectable, and Kayli watched as I picked up a piece ready for my free sample. I did notice how the fudge was not what I expected in my grasp. It was harder than most of the fudge I remembered. I took a huge bite from the fudge and it was like the world stopped around me. The bitter taste, the hard crumbly consistency, this was the strangest tasting fudge. It was then that the realization of my embarrassing fault came from the voice of a small girl. "SIR THAT IS NOT TO EAT!" she exclaimed. I began to finally take notice of the booth around me. The women who were using the basins of water to the left of me washing their hands. The other pieces of fudge that were in different shapes and not your typical colors. Fudge in the shape of rubber duckies? Fudge that is bright blue with yellow swirls? The  biggest tip of all was the sign (in my defense it was discreet) that read "Tiffany's Homemade Soap". As I spit the soap out on the ground I tried not to make eye contact with all the women who were trying to figure me out at the moment. A few were laughing but most were disgusted. I said to them all, "I thought it was fudge. They look like fudge." Then came the nail in the coffin. The woman who was responsible for this misleading fudge said, "ISAIAH!?" It would have been my luck that the woman selling the soap in disguise was a girl I graduated with from high school. I responded with a simple, "You need a sign that says NOT FUDGE" and walked off awkwardly. Of course I spent the rest of the day enjoying the amazing parade of old men in small go-carts, small town high school bands who have had the same uniforms since the 70s, and the long train of ancient John Deer tractors (always a personal favorite). But in the end even after the frozen lemonade, the funnel cake, and the tootsie rolls wrestled from the small child next to me I still had that definite taste lingering in the back of my mouth. The hard texture of awkwardness, the crumble of disappointment, and the bitter taste of embarrassment. And to think, I didn't even have a potty mouth.