Pass the Papuan
This is a true story. If you have children you will probably relate to
this father. (The names have been changed to protect the dignity of the
father...)
"As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection. A thick slab of ham, a fresh
bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet
mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to
the picnic table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was
stopped by my wife suddenly at my side. "Hold Johnny (our six-week-old
son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
"I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching
again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my
fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I licked it off. It was not
mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.
"It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue
protruding. With a washcloth in each hand I did the sort of routine
shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue. Later (after she stopped
crying from laughing so hard) my wife said, "Now you know why they call
that mustard 'Papuan.'"