This month, I’m breaking from my regular column. Instead, I’m going to be telling you a story that will hopefully give you the answer to all life’s problems (including that one involving your stalker who you kind of actually like having stalking you but don’t want to admit it because that’s really weird).
Once upon a time, there lived a Mama Spoon and a Papa Fork. The Papa was often annoyed and sometimes jabbed himself towards the edibles (he never quite stabbed the Mama). The Mama was much smoother around the edges, and when she became pregnant, she grew quite round, perfect for carrying soft foods towards her child, such as applesauce. Soon she had her baby, but this baby was not like either Mama Spoon or Papa Fork.
This baby was sometimes nice and smooth and was slightly rounded like her Mama, but she also sometimes exhibited the spiky personality of her father. (The neighbors were known to liken these prickly personality to tines, but that hit a little close to home.)
Soon, it was time for the listing time, that time of life in which all good little utensils are listed on Pampered Chef (Pampered Chef: We know you’re not actually pampered because you make your own food. But you can pretend to be a spoiled brat when you buy from us! Buy Pampered Chef today.) along with their title and price. The parents knew to list Baby as free, for what use is a foroon (for that was what the neighbors called her) when a spoon or a fork could do the job ten times better?
But what to name the Baby? Foroon sounded ever so undignified. Neither the Mama or the Papa wanted to take responsibility for her so they asked the Chopstick family if they could name their child after them. Mr. Chopstick barely looked up from the piano (he was playing his favorite song – Chopsticks) when he declined the offer. Foroon was not nearly musical enough for him.
They next asked the knife. But the knife responded with a cutting remark, saying, “What’s the point of this thing? I am able to stab things and am ever so much useful than the fork, let alone the foroon.” And this sliced Papa Fork ever so deeply as he began to weep.
So they asked the toothpick. After all, what was more useless than a toothpick? But the toothpick was quite chewed up and wasn’t even a utensil. Not to mention that the Foroon would not possibly have passed for a toothpick.
Mama and Papa grew desperate. They asked Papa’s cousin, the chopfork, but he was at the Chinese restaurant. (Apparently all the Americans who asked for chopsticks were incompetent at using them.) Chopfork’s brother, the Chork (He had always been quite sensitive about his name, as people not only typically choked while pronouncing it, but also while using him.)
They asked the Forkchops, the Knork, the Spoon Straw, the Sporf, the Spife, the Splayed (they were getting quite annoyed with all the parents who named their kids anything that started with sp), before they finally gave up. The only utensil left was the Skewer and Papa had quite a skewed view of its value.
So what did Mama and Papa name their baby? The only thing they could think of that nobody would associate with them, because the name was so outrageous. For, indeed, Mama and Papa had given birth to the first Spork.
So, kids, what have you learned from this story? Hopefully not much. It started as a great piece of wisdom that argued against racism in your relationships but soon devolved into me making me a lot of puns. So long, and I will see y’all next month.