Chopsticks
I never thought that a pair of little wooden sticks could be used as a torture devise. Yet it is what is happening to me, as Atlanta dilligently teaches me how to use those sticks – “chopsticks,” she said – instead of my perfectly usable, perfectly safe eating knife. It is so tideous and ridiculous! Worse, my hunger has returned, and I have to swallow back my saliva numerous times as well as trying to quiet my dissatisfied stomach. Can she not teach me after I have eaten my fill? I would oblige her most enthusiastically, then!
Worst, after a few errors – which splatter food everywhere, including on our faces, forearms and tunics – she hands me a metal something that is vaguely shaped like a bent miniature of a trident.
And it is used practically the same as the “chopsticks” and my eating knife, as she demonstrates it next.
And I can clearly see that it can be used as a weapon, however small.
So why did she prevent me from using mine for eating?! Is it because I look small? I can assure her undoubtably that I retain my adult mind!
Well, nearly adult, that is, but it does not matter.