Jane just had a freak-out about strawberry dairy products. The Wookie (aka Smokey, aka Cokey, aka Pukie) returned from the 7-11 with strawberry ice-cream, which she refused to partake of and vehemently vented that only crazy people drink strawberry milk.
This brought to mind a moment on Saturday, when the DBA was dangling from the roof of the Golfcart as we sped along through the palms, wearing the Lolita sunglasses, and declaring that he felt like he was in an ad for something strawberry-flavoured. Point proved?
I made it half-way through the tub of said strawberry ice-cream when an offer of ‘Cheese Twists’ was made. How could I refuse this temptation? I placed the ice-cream aside, and dipped my fingers into the bag of heinously orange corn-based snacks. Alas, they were horrid and I was obliged, in quick succession, to eat some Cheetos – a far superior flavour of faux cheese, despite also being heinously orange.
I returned to the strawberry ice-cream and, struggling to finish it, offered it to the room. Smokey was content with his own corn-based snacks and far larger tub of chocolate ice-cream; the DBA, having had some spoonfuls earlier, felt that his strawberry dairy quotient for the day was fulfilled. Jane, horrified at the thought that ice-cream might be wasted, offered to eat some despite her adamant disbelief in strawberry dairy. This was a big moment – it had been many years. Even as a child she had refused to eat the strawberry section of the Neapolitan.
This experience was not to alter her feelings. Revolted by the taste of the strawberry dairy, she reached for the nearest food substance – the Cheetos. Already a bad combination, this was further added to by the guabapiña juice laced with Tatascan (aguardiente – firewater) with which she attempted to wash away the foul flavours. Jane will never, ever attempt strawberry dairy again.
I finished the ice-cream.
The DBA then revealed how in prison in the United States, orange juice is served with every meal, and inmates leave cups of it under their beds to ferment. The resulting substance then has to be strained through a sock before consumption, but will deliver a tasty shot of something surprisingly similar to alcohol… This had little relevance to the preceding events.
The DBA’s next move was to wonder into the kitchen and come back with a cup, into which he began dipping the remaining Cheetos and Cheese Twists.
“What’s that?” Jane enquired.
“Vegemite and water”, replied the DBA.
Acts of the crazed, indeed…