Today John observed that the only people who like black jelly beans are those who are so old they were alive before they invented good flavors for candy.
This seems to have the potential to be highly insulting to those of you who may like black jelly beans (you know, like my Dad), so I’m just going to leave that one as John’s observation.
My own observation concerns our cat, gypsy. Gypsy found herself a black jelly bean and loved it. She threw it on the floor and batted it, and chased it and carried it around. Me, being me, took her picture, looked down, checked the photo and made my own observation.
The only cats who like black jelly beans are those who have been taken over by an evil cat spirit.
I’m not sure how John’s theory is going to pan out, but I’ve got photographic evidence for mine.
The next morning as I was coming up from the basement a gooey, fuzzy, squishy, black gob stuck to the bottom of my foot and refused to budge. The horror of my fears of what it might have been was equal to the sense of relief I felt at discovering that the offending goo was “only” a black jelly bean.
Being younger than some, and lacking my own evil cat demon, I do believe it was the only time I have been truly happy to have discovered a black jelly bean.