First Milestone MET! Story: Poorly timed Snack

Hey there. It's been a little bit too long since an update, my apologies. I meant to be a little bit more consistent. Anyways, I don't have an official number in yet, but I have enough people who have told me that they'll be donating to be able to confidently say that I have raised around a thousand dollars.
Awesome, right?
I'll update with the official number as soon as I can.
While I'm a little bit stingy and would usually wait until I get the numbers in, I'm thinking that you guys have been great enough to help me out, so I'll cut you a break. :)
Remember that even if you aren't physically donating, getting the word out there and praying are a pretty big help as well. Thanks for that.
(Not that I would mind the physical donations.)
Read the story, and if it makes you laugh, why not consider donating to help the cause?
This is one of my typical short stories: a quick first person narrative of food out to get me. (Hey, it's fun to write them. And true. Mostly.)
So without further ado.

Poorly Timed Snack.

It was delicious.

I forget what exactly it was, but it was delicious. Some kind of cornbread/cake thingy. It was really good, trust me.

So naturally I took some with me when I had to walk my sister to a neighbor's house. I grabbed a handful, since it was rather crumbly, tossed on a coat, and walked up the street, coolly ignoring the drivers who probably were not glancing out their windows and judging me for eating a sit down food standing up. (I still imagined that they were looking out of their windows and judging me, which is why I coolly ignored them.)

No seriously, eating any kind of comfort food while doing anything other than sitting on your rear and saying "Thankee kindly" is murdering the quintessential meaning of the food. Sausage gravy sheds tears just by being brought into New York city.

It was really crumbly. I think I got half on my face, half in my mouth, and half on my coat.
(The half on my coat was the same half as the one in my mouth.)
Also I got half on my sister. I'm not sure which half that was.
We eventually reached the neighbors house. It wasn't actually that far away, but I kept getting distracted. I have a tendency to get lost whenever I make a left turn, or a right turn, or go straight, or stand still.
More on that some other time.
We rang the doorbell like gentlefolk. We used the door knocker like civilized human beings We barbarically knocked on the door with cornbread smeared hands, and it was promptly answered by Mr. Neighbor. Sister disappeared inside to chill with friends(I hear that small children have now evolved past "playdate.") and left me to deal with Mr. Neighbor, who was very friendly, like a normal civilized human being.

I am usually also very friendly.
Well not very friendly. I am usually a tolerable human being, we'll put it that way. But I had a large amount of food on my face, and was therefore socially hampered.
I also have this bad habit people nowadays euphemistically call "being busy all the time."
That basically means that to the rest of the neighborhood, I'm Boo Radley even if my siblings have their noses in everybody's back yard. (Which they sometimes do.) Most of my ventures either involve me staying inside the house for long periods of time, or being away for long periods of time, so when I come out everybody thinks that a new kid moved in.
Then they remember that the denizens have an older brother and try to ask me the usual questions.
"Who How are you?"
"What Grade are you in?"
"Where are you going to college next year?"
These are totally legitimate questions probably, and I wouldn't be averse to answering them usually.

But today, as I have mentioned, I had cornbread on my face, and a stuffed stomach that told me to go lie down and take a nap.
So while the friendly neighbor asked about life, I furiously attempted to clear food from my face without making it look like I was playing peek-a-boo. This involved surreptitious nodding in such a way that would hopefully dislodge crumbs from the edge of my nose, and slightly larger smiles than I usually give for the same reason.

It kind of worked, I mean he didn't give me any funny looks, or any funny looks that I noticed, but I was a little bit busy to notice funny looks in the first place, seeing as I was attempting to save my dignity and reputation. (Not that I really have much of either. I swapped them out for an extra finger once. I don't know what I did with that finger.)

I think I managed to somehow answer the questions and not look like a total idiot. I may have though. They don't teach you in school how to deal with that kind of situation. I bet if somebody wrote a book on what to do when you've gotten to a fancy dinner and realize you have spinach in your teeth and can't go somewhere to remove it, that guy would make a whole lot of money. Make it a little bit more universally applicable and he'd conquer the world.
Not that people would follow the advice, they'd just read the book and share it with their friends and realize that they'd just eaten horseradish and their friends were now looking at them like hypocrites. Oh well.

*    *    *

Awesome? Talk to me about it. And get ready for the next milestone story, something a little bit different:

The Banana Crime Lords.