A Life Without Spoons

Here's a little tidbit from the soon to be award winning non fiction/fiction book I'm writing about spoons and their various uses.

Chapter Seven: Murder 

If one was to spend countless hours microscopically delving into history, losing sleep and severing (no pun intended) all human connections, I am almost positive they would discover a case of murder involving a cheater and a spoon. The spoon in question not being an object of the cheater’s desire, but the object that was found, bloody and abandoned, near the body of the saucy individual--caught spooning with another lover in the light of the moon.    
    Spoons have a way of working themselves, if necessary, into every violent aspect of life. They can impale, cause blunt force trauma, choke, and if tied to the leg of an unsuspecting field mouse--drown. They can also injure heavily, but injuries tend to be on the low end of the totem pole when juxtaposed to full blown murder.
    I will take a minute to revisit my childhood, dim and cloudy, with the exception of Moriah, the younger sister of my very good friend, Nick. Through the haziness she shines through, spoon in hand, clasping tighter then Poseidon to his Triton. With a mighty blow, she would bring her arm down upon innocent guests, visitors, and family members, and with a loud “THWAP”, cause a one handed headache that lasted for hours. Occasionally there were multiple blows until she was apprehended, the spoon quickly removed from her grip, and carried into the other room for questioning. This obsession went on for years, until she was either slowly weaned from the spoon or one day just realized that she had devoted years of spoon use to her left hand.