Mushrooms are people too?

I was prepping mushrooms today because my wife was making a killer mushroom soup and asked for me to help. Which I gladly did. As I worked my mind drifted. It drifted, oh about knee high along the plains of my imagination. I let my toes drag as I drifted along. Love doing that. I daydreamed. I thought about a woodland family of mushroom people who lived deep in the deep dark woods. People had always tried to throw crap on them, and they didn’t like it so that’s why they moved way out into the deep dark forest. It’s a wild place. Almost anything can happen there.

Anyway, they were happy. They would be very skinny folk except for their heads that were shaped like, well, a mushroom. I guess the doorways to their homes would have to be extra wide, so that they don’t hit their heads together if two should walk inside at the same time. I also figure that their pillows in their beds would have to be extra wide too, for their big ‘ol heads to lay on. They had long skinny legs and they all wore pajamas with tiny white pinstripes that only served to make them look taller and skinnier than they already were.

Then – suddenly - their peaceful existence was threatened by a rogue band of maniacal squash. Why? Because as I thought on, I felt it best that some conflict had to be sprinkled into the mix. The idea was to wrangle the audience (that’s you!) into cheering for the mushroom people. That is until both sides fashion a tenuous cease-fire. Then anything can happen. But one thing's for certain, that’s a story for another time.

Mushrooms are an odd produce…

So then I started to think while I was cleaning the mushrooms (unusual as that may be, it does occur regularly, the thinking I mean). What I was thinking was, once my mind left the woods and the happy mushroom people and the war they had with the squash, that what was I really doing? During the cleaning I mean. What exactly was I cleaning? Oh yes, I know, the mushrooms you might say. But what was I cleaning OFF the mushrooms? Manure. Good ol’ American Grade A horse manure.

Why, when they could send a man to the moon, haven't they thought of a way to package mushrooms that were free of poop? I mean how many other products would you willingly buy from the store that had poop on them? Well I can’t think of any. A steak with poop on it? Uh-Uh. Apples? No thank you. Poopy popcorn? No way! So why is it ok for mushrooms to be packaged with it? Oh, I know, "It grows in it," you’d say. But that just ain’t no excuse, no siree. I wish they would get their you- know -what together and find out a way to bring mushrooms to the market poopy free! Hell, they claim to wash bagged salad three times, Why don’t they save some of that washing for mushrooms!? So if they really want to impress someone, they should sell the mushrooms with the claim that they were washed multiple times. Why stop at three? Wouldn't that make people happy.

Meanwhile, I’ll go back to thinking about my story of the happy ‘shroom folk that live deep in the deep dark woods, fighting maniacal squash while wearing their pajamas.