Perhaps I shouldn't it build it up too much, however, as once I tell you the details of my victory the hype may seem a bit over the top in hindsight.
Here it is. The loathsome little wretch that held the upper hand for years:
I understand it may seem a little irrational but hear me out on this. These things can be potentially deadly. I mean, come on, these puppies are sealed tight in that little can contraption thingy. They are ready to bust at any moment. They're under some serious pressure and the slightest release could send them flying, right? Right? You still with me?
Well, I've never wanted to open one of these myself because in all seriousness they actually scared me with all that build-up of suspense as you peel back the wrapping and applying the pressure of a blunt object along the seam to open it. All the while, you have no idea when the POP will come, you just know it will. Almost like a jack-in-the-box (although there is at least some warning there, what with the creepy music and all), but that's another phobia for another day.
Anyway, as it happens, Keck was off this morning and when I got up I had a craving for biscuits and eggs and I had no one but myself to turn to. Since skipping breakfast is not a valid option for me, I knew I had to do this. Of course, it's not as if I just jumped into it and popped that bad boy open with ferocious gusto or anything. But after all the rationalizing in my head had finally amped me up enough, I just went at it. I peeled back the wrapper ever so slowly, and as gingerly as possible. Using a small pinch I created with just my thumb and index finger, I extended my arm fully so as to be holding the biscuit cannon as far from my body as possible. Meanwhile, I turned my face away carefully, while still keeping a vigilant eye on the enemy, and let the weight of the can drop itself from the wrapper and onto the counter.
Once this part was done I felt some relief, as I had won the battle but I knew the war was still on until those biscuits were released. So I did some preparatory calisthenics there in the kitchen, and after careful consideration I choose a spoon. It was with this spoon that I would conquer the can, after all, so I couldn't just open the drawer and grab any old utensil. Now there were a few failed attempts of me pressing the spoon along the seam without enough pressure but eventually I took a deep breath and pushed it down like I meant business.
With that, the canister blew open and the dreaded loud POP filled the room. Finally I was able to exhale and release the tension that I'd apparently been holding in every one of my muscles for the duration of the entire scenario. Then, 12 minutes later, I enjoyed the spoils of my victory.
In your face, Dough Boy!
