I am the person who will destroy China. (madman101) wrote,
I am the person who will destroy China.
madman101

Pickled Herring!

If I go to the death chair, and they offer me one last meal?  It will be pickled herring.

Pickled herring has lots of onions and sugar in it - two things I mean to avoid, because of CFS.

But it's so good!

When I worked at the deli, I would sneak back into the cold room, or whatever that was called, and I would pig out on pickled herring, which was in a large, open 'barrel'.  I couldn't help myself.  I was a terrible person.

Then I heard the rumour that someone was eating the pickled herring, so I guess I stopped.  I had no idea anyone might be able to figure that out.  But, you know.  Business men, they count every penny.  They have some kind of godlike awareness of everything that happens.

The deli's pickled herring was better than the stuff you get in jars at the supermarket.  It was firmer.  The jarred stuff is mooshy, but still - so good!  Caviar has nothing on this.

I eventually confronted the annoying old owner of that place, I think because he wanted me to stop singing, even though all the customers thought of my singing as a part of the celebratory ambience of the place.  I am always famous, wherever I go.

One of the girls I once flirted with, and made herself an available gf, she quit only days after I left.  At least one person thought I was right, although I was wrong for loving the pickled herring, which I think I felt free to eat as some kind of passive-aggressive revenge for the subtle injustice I kept having to endure.

Like, in Brazil, the movie.  The caught, set-upon main character keeps dreaming of flying around in the heavens with some angelic bird lady.  Similarly, I had my pickled herring.

PS - The Cardigans had a guy gargling in the background, to the music, as part of, "Explode or Implode."  One of the best ideas in music I have ever come across.  They were fantastic.

Oh, the deli went under, very soon after I left. Because everything I leave, dies.

Even the angry old sour, bitter owner died, soon after I left.

I am completely aware of the comic book superhero powers I possess.  I try to keep them hidden, or use them discretely, but I am like the Hulk if you offend me.  I will unleash all my bottled-up pickled herring onto your face.
Tags: food - pickled herring, music - cardigans, my past
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