Green

Reflecting about the good ol' days of yore, I remember many adventures. One such adventure went as follows...

Since I was always a hungry child, I paid extra attention to what was going on in the kitchen. We used to have an old creaky electric can-opener and I would get excited whenever I heard that salubrious sound. However, it didn't take long to learn that the sound didn't always turn out to be as glorious as I had thought. That's when I learned about labels on cans. At three years old, I could not read, but I could definitely recognize the pictures on the side.

Over the next week or two, I carefully watched each time a can was opened. I learned what the labels looked like for peaches and pears, applesauce and tuna, and oh so many more. Then I noticed something different; there was a can with this guy on the front:



I had no idea what was going to come out of that can. I watched with utmost concentration in order to find out what pieces of big green men looked like. It was pretty much what I imagined -- little cylinders of green man. I was shocked, confused, and a bit afraid. If I turned green, would my parents eat me? Would I have to wear a dress made out of leaves? Would I have to stand up forever?

These questions bothered me to the extent that I never wanted to eat green men. If forced to eat them, I would promptly throw them up. I vowed to never eat green people, no matter what society wanted from me.

Even with many other labels that don't show the picture of a giant leaf-dress wearing man, I still know the true origin of those green pieces of cylindrified flesh.

They do kind of grow on you though...