Gullible: The Piping Rock Episode, Part I: “Genuine, Fake “Moonrocks”

Being “taken for a ride” is something my innate mistrust has protected me from most of my life, although I do recall an incident when I was eight years old where I collected bubblegum wrappers from the Bazooka my folks allowed me to damage my teeth with, added some money to the cache and mailed off all, eagerly anticipating the delivery of “genuine moon rocks”. As I was obsessed with the Apollo moon landing, anything I associated with it, or space in general, became a passionate desire. Yes, I lusted after those “moon rocks”. Fell asleep gazing at the blurry black and white depiction of them, imagining how satisfying their countenance would be to gaze upon, their wonderful bumpy and pitted surface to stroke. Ah… the blissful, contemplative hours with them to come – stroking, gazing, gazing, stroking. My parents demanding I, “put those things down” at the dinner table. I secretly fondling them under the table with one hand as my other openly and vigorously twisted, tapped, tugged and explored – like a blind person reading braille was the calibration of my exquisite tactile sensitivity  –  the same lock of hair over and over until it stuck out from my head like the little devil’s horn it was. Mother gently patting my right hand to halt its ceaseless motion – in vain; I started up again almost immediately. I did need my left hand to eat with, so I imagined gently settling the precious cargo in my lap, taking a bite, then gathering them up again –oh, the sensation! Heaven…

…Would have to wait.

The stupid things were ugly little rubber balls!! They didn’t even bounce well, the colors were muddy and not intriguing to gaze upon at all. I had been scammed!!

The screaming and crying and angry hair pulling – my own; I was rough enough with it when content, when upset I actually tore it out, creating unbecoming bald patches my mother covered with hats and even a Little Red Riding Hood red velvet bonnet – the outburst was a major and exhausting one, for me and my family who endured the hours of it, but to no avail – I’d been scammed for the first and last time.

Well, maybe not the very last time – but it was then I learned not to trust things ordered from the back of Mad Magazine – or bubblegum wrappers.

This is why Part Two of this story did NOT happen to me, and why reading the comments of those who were suckers has me in gales of laughter right now. I don’t feel it is because I lack empathy, but maybe it is – it’s just their descriptions strike me as hilarious.

More in Part 2…

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