June 28, 2015
My story is not a kind one, it burns my soul as much as the cilantro burns my lips. The words of this tale toils against my larynx, which is made moist by the stinging bliss of the leafy, green devil. It was a mid summer's night, when I was a boy no older than 6. It was an unexpected and paranormal series of events, for I did not know at the time the mystical powers of said vegetable. It was late, the time that all good children retire to the comfort of their living space. I can still feel the chill that ran up my spine all those years ago. You see I have had a very peculiar relationship with the leafy appendages of this plant, it always seemed to have it's eyes on me. I awoke late that night, feeling the emerald eyes of death on my back. I tried to turn to my covers to protect me from the evil, but it was too late, I was abducted from my bed before my blanket could use it's power to save me. What happened next was a blur of cilantro flavored confusion. I was in complete bewilderment; it felt as if I was thrown into a juicer where thousands of cilantro leaves have been massacred. Since that day, I have not trusted cilantro and I hope that I may soon find other survivors.