Stories of Death

Coleman was my helper for making apricot jam today. His job was to cut open each one and remove the pit. He did this the other day for me and did a fantastic job. Today he added a bit more spice to it. I'm chopping along when he says,

Coleman: Do you want to hear a sad story?
Mom: Is it about an apricot?
Coleman: Yep--Once upon a time there was an apricot. Aaahhh--shpluitt (sound of knife entering apricot's body)---uuhhhhh. The end. I like my job!

There were many more of these very sad, very short stories, all similarly violent and ending in the ultimate demise of the poor apricot. But we did make very yummy jam.

On another violent and odd note, we found out today that our rat, Lucky, is a hunter. I had no idea that a rat, especially a hand-fed, pampered, meant-to-be-snake-food kind of rat would have such abilities. Apparently a fly made the fatal mistake of entering Lucky's cage, no doubt lured there by the inviting aroma. Lucky eyed it carefully, pounced on it, snatched it up in his wee little hands and proceeded to bite its head off and devour the entire thing. I had no idea he had it in him. Maybe we should let him live in the house. I can just see him keeping our corners free of spiders, cockroaches and the like. It would be great! Of course, then our corners would be filled with Lucky's little treats instead. Not so great. He stays in the garage.