Book Blog Tour: Quinn
I still have some questions left, but I can't get at them right now, so I'm going to ask myself a question no one has asked yet.
Quinn, what's the weirdest meal you ever ate?
Okay, but you have to remember that I was in my early twenties. I had a roommate, but because we had a house with a teeny pool and he was very social, we usually had about seventy-one people around. Some of them would bring food. Others brought pot and I assume some brought crabs, but I didn't partake of those. One Saturday afternoon, I padded into the kitchen for my first meal of the day. In the fridge was part of the sheetcake someone had brought the day before. You know the kind; it had roses and princesses. I assume they bought it for kitsch value. Or they were really high. Possibly both. Anyway, the Inner Child Quinn shrieked "I GET A ROSE AND A PRINCESS ON MY SLICE!" and I had sheetcake for breakfast. Within a minute, the frosting had coated my mouth and throat so thoroughly that it was like I was eating through a dry-cleaning bag. I drank water. I drank juice. In desperation, I drank cow's milk, which I loathe. Nothing worked. Years later, when I learned about trans-fats, I estimated I had gotten my life's worth in those rosettes and that princess. Finally I thought of something which was either going to remove the sensation or make me not care. I grabbed it from where I had hidden it from the countless house-guests.
It was single-malt Scotch. I poured a shot and sipped it. Not only did it cut the slime, it was oddly wonderful with the cake, the wood-smoke flavor a wild counterpoint to the cloying chemical obviousness. Since I have so little of a sense of taste, I'm sure it would have been completely disgusting to anyone else but I found it nothing short of delightful. No, I wasn't high. It just sounds like it.
I've never done it again. Partially because I fear someone seeing me do it and partially because I fear that like certain other events in my early twenties actually doing it again would just be a little anticlimactic and sad.