Claw marks in the frozen peas

Gum

When I chew gum, I often find myself in situations where I am either unable to conveniently spit the gum out, or I completely lack the motivation to walk over to a waste basket to dispose of it. Usually, I’ll just convince myself that I really do want to continue chewing the piece of gum that now has a hardness of about an 8 on Mohs Hardness Scale.

If karma exists, that means somewhere in outer space, a wad of gum no less than 1 kilometer wide is hurdling directly for me. I try my best to spit my gum into a wrapper, a trash bin, or even a bush. I don’t mean to spit my gum out on the ground for people to step on, but sometimes, when I’ve been chewing on the same piece for about 2 hours, my mouth automatically rejects the stale and flavorless gum; it consciously decides, “I don’t want this in here anymore *patoo*” So I suppose it is inevitable that a colossal piece of chewed gum from outer space will one day crush and kill me. My only hope is that it will be a good flavor.