French Onion and Vanilla

Bustling was the atmosphere during the gathering of friends. Spirits soared high and tireless voices fueled by youth beamed into the surroundings and livened up the blandness of the mechanical world, barring a few unchangeable aspects.

Ice cream was given to us. French onion chips were given to us. To contribute to the existing lightheartedness of the moment, showing a friend, I dipped a single crisp in a small amount of melted vanilla and put it in my mouth. Amusement or laughter was what I had expected, but those were not delivered to me despite my subjection to a seemingly repulsive but surprisingly okayish flavor profile.

Given to me was a face of serious disgust along with a hand pointed to my face that posed the question of whether I was sane or not.

As I tried to get over the failure of my mission, the spectator of my fruitless act had his switch abruptly flipped over and decided to have a go at what he had sternly questioned two minutes ago.

His tongue was well-receptive to the avant-garde combination, and suddenly dawned upon him the realization that I was not as disturbed an individual as he had initially thought.

Out of sheer excitement, the boy introduced his finding to the rest, basking in the praise he received from everyone around.

I scratched my head and wondered why people were like this.

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