I interrupted our conversation to inform Alyssa that I was holding a two-pound mushroom in my hand. I think she was incredibly impressed.
And then I thought it would be a good idea to take a picture of it next to an object to give you all an idea of the scale of this thing, lest you think I was using some fancy photography technique to make it look bigger. I couldn’t locate a ruler, so I grabbed this little Lego Man.
As soon as I snapped that picture I heard an alarming noise, not unlike the voracious chomp of a pregnant woman at an all-you-can-eat dessert and pickle bar. I tried to lunge toward Lego Man, but the mushroom was gulping him down. All that I could see were his little square Lego feet…
And I was like, “Mushroom! How dare you! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! That Lego Man was an important member of the Lego community! He had a little Lego family! He had sixteen thousand little Lego children at home! His dream was to star in the new Lego Harry Potter video game!”
I’m sorry, I should have warned you. This post contains graphic Lego violence.
And then, from out of nowhere, a can of Cream of Mushroom Soup swooped into the kitchen! I stood back in awe…and snapped a picture.
The soup can spoke. It said in a deep, baritone, thunderous voice, “Mushroom! You are a despicable, evil mushroom. You give other mushrooms a bad name. Give yourself up now!”
The soup can stood firmly on the counter, as if it were made of heavy tin and filled with a stiff soup base. He stared the mushroom straight in the stem and said, “Because. I. Am. Your. Father.”
The mushroom screamed. I screamed. The little Lego Man’s head screamed.
And then the soup can turned to me and recommended, in his incredibly masculine voice, that I probably shouldn’t have eaten the other mushrooms that were growing in the flower beds.
I think he’s probably right.