Rubarb Ruminations

At work on Friday some kid puked all over the lobby floor. The kid and parent combo scrammed before anyone even knew what happened. They must have thought we'd make them clean it up or something. As the lone male working in that building, I was designated to get rid of the, uh, orange-and-brown-colored mess on the floor and the corner of the entry mat.

After rolling up the sleeves to my dress shirt, putting gloves on, and grabbing my weight in paper towels, I sopped up the nasty barf and disposed of it in a trash bag. Then I mopped the floor while my queasy boss hovered around spraying disinfectant everywhere.

Here comes the good part of the story. My boss was so impressed with my clean-up skills that she offered to make me any dessert I wanted. Without skipping a beat I replied, "I would love you forever if you made me a rhubard pie." Despite the mixture of quizzical and disgusted looks from my peers, I resolutely declared my love for that delicious dessert. "How about strawberry-rhubarb?" by boss asked.

"Even better."

When I came into work today, my first words as I came through the door were, "Any more puke-and-runs for me to clean up today?" I went into the back room and there, in full glory, sat my strawberry rhubarb pie. And boy was it delicious.

I enthusiastically dug in, and encouraged my coworkers to take advantage of a tidbit so sinful heavenly. (I have a theory that rhubarb--in pie form, of course--was the forbidden fruit that Eve simply couldn't resist) I relished every bite of the three or four one piece consumed.

The snotty coworker of mine who the previously Friday had testified (without tasting it) to the disgusting nature of rhubarb pie, was converted today when she tasted it. Ahh, vindication is sweet. And so is rhubarb pie.

Tags: rhubarb pie, desert, sin, puke, barf