Our class had been lucky lately. Just last week our Professor brought in a box of homemade chocolate chip cookies for the class to feast upon while learning about ethics in Psychology. What new surprise would greet our watering mouths today?
It was blueberry muffins. As I passed the tray to the next lucky classmate I gazed down upon my pastry. The top shimmered like a lawn covered in morning dew; it maintained the correct ratio of moisture and fluffiness that every muffin should. But as everyone knows there is always someone who wants to ruin your muffin eating experience. Today that person sat three columns to the left of me dawning a red cardigan of destruction.
My first bite went well. I was able to obtain a large portion of blueberries paired with an equally large portion of pastry. I never got to experience a second bite. Red cardigan made sure of that.
Sitting unevenly on her desk sat the top of her muffin. It had its bottom torn from beneath it. You don't do that! You don't! I gave her the benefit of the doubt--maybe she was just saving the best part for last. No, no she wasn't.
That muffin top sat hopelessly on a dirty, crumpled napkin knowing it was never going to be eaten. A muffin's sole purpose in life is to be eaten, and it could not even fulfill that. I then turned my eyes towards the monster who decimated this innocent breakfast delight. Her eyes had a mixture of disdain and joy. A look only Lucifer himself could pull off. All I could think was, why? Why eat only the bottom, questionably the worst part of the muffin, and leave the top? Did she have a grievance towards muffin tops?
There must be a story. I could not leave this situation unexplained. It is possible muffin tops had wronged her in the past. Flashback five years ago. Red cardigan was a senior in high school.
Prom was in a couple of months and being the progressive female that she was, decided to ask her date instead of waiting for the question. She looked mediocre that day. Her red cardigan was still stained from that Quiznos sub she inhaled at lunch...(sorry I am letting my personal bias against her muffin top hatred get in the way, she probably looked fine). Anyway. She was enjoying her post-lunch muffin. She had eaten one at the same time everyday; it was her favorite part of the day. As per usual she ripped the bottom off, discarded it in the proper waste receptacle, and consumed the top.
As she dove into a pumpernickel paradise her "date" caught her eye. No time to waste, it was now or never. With crumbs still on her lower lip she scurried in his direction. She now had a difficult decision to make. She thought to herself, "Do I eat the rest now? Or do I hold it in my hand like an idiot?" With the options weighed, she decided on the former. She shoveled the cake-like-breakfast-pastry into her mouth sans water. She was toast. She couldn't even get the words out because the pumpernickel nightmare dried her mouth out like a sun dried raisin. She choked not only on her words, but on the muffin top as well. "Wangbdh goem....ehahhhhh," she vomited her words at him.
Disgusted, the would be date, snarled and possibly dry heaved a little. The answer was clearly no. She soon was tasting her own tears. They were salty and regretful.
Back to present time now. I saw her past and now I knew why that muffin top sat sadly on the napkin. But before I could muster up enough courage to save it from its trashy fate, the muffin was en route to its demise. She could have laid it gently in the trash; just show a little respect, c'mon. She embarrassed that muffin top in front of all the other muffins. She dropped it a couple of times on the way; each time it broke apart more and more. I sat motionless in my seat, my face lost its color--I was witnessing a massacre...a muffin massacre. Finally the top was put out of its misery, but not before she got the last word. She pulled it close to her lips and whispered one final insult, so disgusting I cannot repeat it here. It had to do with its ingredients, you don't mock a muffins ingredients, especially to its top.
She embarrassed that muffin out of revenge. Mark my words red cardigan, your time will come. Muffins are feisty creatures and when the boysenberry boys hear about this insult to baking, they will come for you. Mark my dough.
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