Late this morning when I sheepishly and absent mindedly answered my phone with a most unusual salutation, my caller asked alarmingly, "What on earth is the matter with you this morning? And what are you still doing in bed at this time of a beautiful Monday morning? Wrong way to enter a new week, yes?"
And grudgingly but without knowing who to really begrudge under the circumstance, I said, "After having a sumptuous dinner at friend's house last night, it suddenly dawned on me that his wife served us plenty of meat, while their kids had only slices of onions and tomatoes on their food. So I asked why we had that amount of meat while their kids had none. And he responded, 'What should we do, when they say they won't eat dog meat?'"
In a flash my dearly departed father bless his soul, appeared, looked at me pitifully and said, "But I told you that your stomach has no key. So you should always be mindful of what you put in, because you can't open and take out any wrong stuff." I virtually flew all the way home, then almost pushed my whole fist down my throat and vomited till the early hours of this morning.
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