Life as Super Earthling has been eye-opening. I’ve learned it’s rarely easy for people who grew up in a happy, loving, sunshiny, joy and laughter-filled family like this:
to understand what it’s like to grow up in a dysfunctional family…like this:
Over the years, friends I’ve told about The Beef Fat Incident have asked if I perhaps exaggerated or artfully colored the tale with an extra dab of dramatic flair to make it more interesting. Their questions were like a knife in my heart, making it difficult to express myself clearly as I responded. Exaggerating? Seriously? I think not.
Little did my clueless friends know that
I realized these progenies of Leave it to Beaver-type families who looked at life through rose colored glasses, would never believe my heartrending tale of beef woe unless I pretended that I came from a somewhat normal family. Being Super Earthling, I think I managed this difficult task rather convincingly.
And now I’m going to share my tale with you. As the story unfolds, do keep in mind that,
But since I write comedy and not horror, and because I don’t want to give anyone bloody beef nightmares, I’ll leave the gritty truth to your imagination. It all started when I (sweet, innocent little Susan, the future Super Earthling), sat at the kitchen table at dinnertime under the watchful eye of my father as he served me the dinner he’d just *cough* cooked, for lack of a better word…
poor little beef-hating Susan said with a distinct shudder as she eyed the bloody, bulky mass of still pulsing flesh ringed with a greasy, juicy inch-thick strip of translucent white fat on her dinner plate. The sickly pool of deep red juices oozing from the not nearly dead enough piece of cow reminded her of a scene straight out of a horror movie.
Susan’s rare-cooked-beef-loving father said, spearing a glob of the gelatinous, greasy white stuff and aiming the fork at the mouth of his horrified daughter. It was difficult for her to focus as the cow’s pitiful death rattle filled her ears.
A true humanitarian in the making, Susan considered her father’s words about the deprived children in China, offering what she believed to be a sound and reasonable suggestion, once her gag reflex had subsided.
Clearly not amused or a proponent of her charitable idea, her beef-fat-adoring father spoke words to Susan that filled her with a small speck of hope.
Susan’s tiny child brain struggled in vain to come up with additional sarcasm so she could get the hell away from the table and the horrendous globule of shiny beef fat aimed at her mouth. But there was a problem…
Her burgeoning brainpower and first class wit helped little Susan to form a brilliant plan…
Perhaps, Susan thought wisely, it was not the time for levity.
“You have no idea how good you have it,” her father admonished, turning the forkful of fat this way and that, salivating as he admired the hideous congealing blob that had been savagely torn from the underside of the now mercifully dead cow’s hide.
Having already endured more beef-related trauma than she thought she could possibly bear, poor, dear little Susan wasn’t prepared when her father’s next words caused her mind to implode.
Horrified, speechless and forever traumatized by the heinous, gut-roiling mental image her father had just verbally painted,
affording her sadistic, beef-devoted father enough opportunity to deposit the congealing chunk of fat on the back of the unsuspecting youngster’s tongue…
And it was then that Susan, future Super Earthling, had her first
Much of what happened after that is a blur, except for Susan’s chilling and distinct memory of her father’s dire warning that whatever she didn’t finish on her plate would be served to her the next morning for breakfast. Cold. Today, Super Earthling hesitates to tell you that her father was indeed a man of his word, but tell you she must.
Understandably meat leery, over the years Susan cautiously ventured into beef territory with agonizing slowness and considerable apprehension…always cognizant of the distant, ghostly mooing of cows she had haplessly ingested through no fault of her own.
Born and raised in Chicago (you know, former home of the Union Stock Yards--the city known as the Hog Butcher to the World)
Susan grew up willingly eating White Castle sliders and Italian beef sandwiches. She discovered that beef (as long as it bore no resemblance whatsoever to the unsuspecting cow it once was), cooked well done and
was not altogether a bad thing.
In this Super Earthling Life Lesson you learned valuable information regarding how to survive (mostly mentally intact) and thrive after suffering a blood-drenched, fat-smothered, undead mooing animal ordeal at the hands of an authority figure.
NOTE: If this post brought a smile to your day, please share it and help spread the word to everyone on the planet about Super Earthling. Thanks!
--Susan, Super Earthling…roger wilco, over and out