The Brownie Incident

I'm four years old in the living room crawling around on my hands and knees pretending to be a cat.

Meow.

Meeeeooowww.

I'm out prowling for prey. Then I spot it from across the room. Under the small wooden table in front of the windows is a perfect brownie. What? I've never come upon a brownie in the living room before. A brownie just sitting there under the table on the beige carpet. What a nice surprise.

I crawl myself right up to it. Dare I touch it? What if this brownie isn't for me? Whose brownie is sitting here on the carpet in the living room? Do cats even eat brownies? Did Mom decide to bake brownies and disperse them throughout the house as like, a scavenger hunt for her children's pure enjoyment? Would I get in trouble for eating it? What if my brother or sister hid their brownie here for a later occasion? (I'm sure this wasn't my thought process at four years of age. Most likely I was just like, Brownie!! For me!)

I couldn't take the temptation any longer. Gazing at this wonder that I accidentally happened upon, I stick my finger into the warm brownie and bring it towards my mouth. The ooziness and warmth of the brownie felt just right on my finger that I shut out any doubts from my mind that this brownie could belong to anyone but me. I slide my brownie-tipped finger into my mouth expecting nothing but chocolate goodness and a warm feeling of satisfaction throughout my body.

The brownie touched my tongue and immediately I felt a warm sensation thoughout my body...but not one of satisfaction. More of, like, vomit rising through my throat making its way to the cavity that had just encompassed what I had now figured to be cat poop. A nice, warm pile of cat poop.

I was in shock. How could this warm, gooey, chocolate-looking thing not be a brownie? I had opened my mouth expecting Ghirardelli chocolate chips scattered throughout a brownie, but I definitely had the taste of sheer disappointment plaguing my mouth, not to mention crappy-smelling breath. I shouldn't complain, though. Afterall, I did just happen to eat pie. Not chocolate Ghirardelli pie, but a very special homemade pie from a loving feline.

Looking back, I'm guessing Mom didn't get any brownie points from me for the supposed scavenger hunt she had planned. Needless to say, I will never eat brownies that I spot on the floor ever again, thanks to this brownie incident.