The Things We Do For Sweets

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Only Luke Skywalker can fall in love with his sister. Only Rapunzel can grow her hair to 50,000 feet and though she isn’t a storybook character, may I just say…only Oprah Winfrey can take 300 people to Australia. What does this have to do with me?
“A SKITTLE IS STUCK IN MY NOSE!” I shouted at the top of my lungs in the girl’s restroom. I was a 7th grade girl and at that moment I knew my life had come to a tragic end. I felt as though my nose was in prison and the skittle was the watchdog, making sure I experienced every ounce of pain possible. I just remember all the failed, desperate attempts to free my nose from this thing jammed in my nasal passage. I remember blowing like an elephant into a rough, paper towel creating colorful, snotty artwork. I remember jumping up and down like a shake weight. Then, without hope, I remember falling to the ground in the bathroom preparing myself for a slow and painful death because at some point I swear I couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air and grabbing my heart I could feel as the skittle was creating a home for itself in my nose and I couldn’t do anything about it. I leaned my head back like I was performing an acrobatic trick. Now between my elephant nose blowing and acting like an acrobat, I could have been a one girl circus. With my head leaned back, I began to desperately heave and ask God for forgiveness because I knew whatever sin I committed just didn’t deserve this type of punishment. “My God, My God…Why have you forsaken me?” I wept like I was Jesus on the cross. The skittle just sat there…in my nose. I could feel it laughing at my agony. It’s roundness. It’s chewy deliciousness. There in that awkward position is when I wrote my first poem. It went something like this:
Oh, skittle. Colorful and scrumptious.
I didn’t think it would come down to this.
I have loved you with all my heart.
You were delightfully tasteful right from the start.
Please get out of my nose, can’t you see?
You being there is KILLING me.
Then, like magic, the skittle began to gracefully slide down my nose to my throat. This candy had just taken a rollercoaster ride from my throat, to my nose, and back like my body was some sort of amusement park. I began to breathe again. The skittle was releasing my nose from prison. The light that was coming to take me away was dimming. Relief. It was a moment I would never forget because…only I can get a skittle out of my nose by reading it a poem.
So, to Snow White who was dumb enough to take an apple from a creepy, witch. To Hansel and Gretel who were naïve and ate the gingerbread house. To the fat kid who was swallowed up by a chocolate river in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Let us make a toast to the things we do for sweets!





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