Setting: my house. Back when it had carpet...very possibly it had boarded windows as well, but that is different story that isn't very funny...
Who: me...kind of my Dad...well, he was there, but sleeping downstairs. His presence being mentioned is only to satisfy those of you who think a young kid of 12 should not be alone after school...although I was a latch-key kid, if you know what I mean.
The other Ws need not be addressed...
Okay, so my little snack after school at that time was always a Pillsbury Pizza Pop, baked in the oven. I unlocked the door and skipped in, the sun shining on my gorgeous face that was framed by to-die-for brown locks of beauty, threw my school stuff in a corner, and headed for the fridge. The golden pops of goodness in their plastic kingdoms of packaging smiled at me as I opened the door. Not long after, they were plopped on a blacker-than-black baking pan and shoved into the 250F oven. A long 20 minutes later (spent watching Degrassi Junior High...how cool did Joey Jeremiah think he was?), I was preparing for my long-awaited first bite into the Plentiful Pocket of Pepperoni and Cheese. Slowly I brought my snack towards my chops...closer...closer...oh, wait...closer..and.... Blech!!! Yuck! A green substance of questionable viscosity oozed out into the space that was my oral cavity. With horror I prompty disposed of the remaining scariness into the garbage... And never again have my rosy red lips touched a Pillsbury Doughboy Pizza Pop!
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