December 18, 2007 - 4:19
I was thinking today about my seemingly angsty relationship with plaster, and remembered a particularly strange example.
My grandmother used to work at an appliance shop when I was young. The last proper job she had before she retired, I think. The great part of this job (for me), was that I was the garbage disposal for the cast off showroom food. The realistic plaster fruits and vegetables, mock milk cartons and real, old-time bottles of Coke they'd use to stock the display refrigerators.
One day I was playing at "food" in the barn behind my house. A sad lil' haven that served as a rusty nail riddled playroom for Noah and I, who shared our bedroom with 2 people aside from ourselves and needed some space sometimes.
Anyways. At this moment I had a plaster turkey in front of me, and I had a full glass bottle of sealed Coke in my hand, which is when I got the idea to see which-broke-which. By all means, and without hesitation, I bashed the bottle over the turkey...and if you're curious, the turkey won. Laying there like it didn't feel a thing. With my hands, which were bleeding from glass cuts, I threw the turkey against the barn wall. I guess I was pissed.
I would pay $350.00 to see that.