Please, Don't Feed the Beans

I have not felt sympathy for an inanimate object since I read the Velveteen Rabbit as a small boy. I did feel some brief pangs of pity for some of the characters on the Island of the Misfit Toys in Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer, but it was fleeting, as claymation tends to freak me out.

Yet, the other day I found myself feeling sorry for the holiday cupcake that Mrs. Beans demolished in about 2.3 seconds. It is difficult to find an appropriate metaphor for the combination of pure efficiency and animal instinct that Mrs. Beans employed when she devoured that cupcake. Has anyone ever seen a calf-roping contest? They release the poor calf and it runs like crazy for about 10 feet until it is lassoed and hog-tied by the pursuing cowboy in about 3 seconds. You feel awful for the poor little calf, but at the same time a small part of you thinks, "Holy shit! I can't believe how fast that was!" I think this might best describe the experience and I literally stood there slack-jawed.


In any event, I found myself feeling sorry for the poor little cupcake. What did it do to deserve a fate like that? I know, I know, its the circle of life, and perhaps if the cupcake wasn't so darned delectable with its buttery frosted goodness and sassy holiday funfetti topping it could have lived a longer and fuller life, but it just seems wrong. I am strongly considering the purchase of one of those hand held catapults that you use to throw tennis balls for your dog. I mean doesn't the cupcake deserve a fighting chance?

I think part of the problem is the realization that I am now living with a full-blown predator. I am left to pick over the remains of whatever Mrs. Beans has devoured and I have taken to stashing a small package of Saltines in my dresser door. I break out in the chills when the packaging crinkles and makes a noise as I attempt to open it in the confines of my closet.

crinkle, crinkle

"What are you eating!?!?"

"Mmmm.... uh, N-n-nuthing." As I frantically wipe crumbs off of my chest.

Frankly, keeping the cupboards stocked has become a major priority for me. I've seen the way she eyes me when she thinks that I'm not looking. I'm just one false move from becoming an appetizer.