The Mysterious Prune Pits

One day my little sister Corinna, who was then about six years old and my brother Albert, who was four years old came into the kitchen while my mom was preparing the next meal saying they were hungry. Mom didn’t want to give them anything that would ruin their appetites for the next meal because they were both on the thin side and couldn’t afford to miss a meal. The best thing she could come up with in a hurry was a little bag of prunes.

They happily took the prunes and sat on the floor in front of the sofa where my dad was taking a nap. They ate the prunes and watched cartoons quietly and then went back outside to play.

After a while my mom could hear my dad grumbling under his breath and then louder and louder, “Jesus Christ!”. Now my father never cussed or swore. But here he was saying “Jesus Christ” over and over again. So she peeked out of the kitchen to see what had caused him to break his own rule.

He was picking prune pits off of his normally immaculate shirt one at a time and saying “Jesus Christ” every time. She quietly went back into the kitchen and never mentioned how the pits came to be on his shirt.