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Worm meat
October 16, 2007It looked like an ordinary roast.
And like any ordinary roast, Mom had thrown a bunch of carrots, potatoes and sliced onions all around it.
After church that particular Sunday, we came home, each served ourselves a plate of roast and fixings and dug in.
All except Sister 2. That day, she claimed she was a vegetarian.
All of a sudden.
Everything was fine until someone decided to get seconds, and they served up a foot-long curly tape worm, which had been masquerading as an onion.
(I swear to this day that it had fangs.)
Sister 2 laughed. She had seen the worm on the first go-round.
"Ha, ha. Y'all just ate worm meat!!!" she cackled, her tastebuds untainted by worm meat.
We threw the meat outside to the dogs and put the worm in a jar.
Pop tried to allay any of our fears of poisoning or contamination. The worm was probably in the cow when it was slaughtered and then was released by the heat from the oven.
It had been long dead before it made it to our house, Pop told us. He told us we wouldn't get sick. That we'd be fine.
But five of us sisters had eaten worm meat, and Sister 2 wouldn't let us forget it, even to this day, decades later.
We made Pop take the worm up to the grocery store and demanded that he come back with some kind of restitution.
He came home with another roast.
We ate grilled cheese for a month.
Posted by Lara Richards at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
