I don’t like celery. I despise every thing about it; from the way it’s leaves stick out it like a mop of curly hair, to the way it smells strangely like dirt. Parents always say things like ”Eat your greens” and ”celery makes you muscular”, but it doesn’t exactly pull away from the fact that what you are being made to eat is celery, and that it gets stuck in your throat so it makes you gag like crazy. Motivational is just about the last word I would use to describe these muscle man lectures. Last Wednesday, when I was waiting patiently for dinner with my baby sister Maddie, after a hard day at school (which was filled with mind numbing facts about trees), I was exposed to something of my nightmares. Lately, mum has been acting all fancy after reading a magazine called ’How to be a True Lady of Elegance.’ One of the so called fancy things in the book was to have appetisers before dinner, so Maddie and I are never surprised if she comes out of the kitchen holding a tray of seaweed crackers with cheddar cheese and mayo, but today was another thing all together. Mum pushed open the door of the kitchen holding a shiny silver tray stacked with none other than…. CELERY! I gasped and covered my eyes so I wouldn’t be able to look at the green sticks stacked procariously on top of each other. ”I decided that the whole family is going on a nutritional diet!” she chattered gleefully. Way to go mum. I thought sarcastically. I’ll just starve for the next few weeks until someone has pity on me and gives me normal food, one that rabbits don’t feast upon. ”Eat up, kids!” declared mum, an abnormally large grin plastered across her face. Maddie stabbed a piece of celery with a fork and munched on it happily, while I just sat there starting at the tray of doom as if it had just dropped out of the sky. ”I said eat up, kids.” repeated mum, in a colder voice than before. Her grin had vanished, and was now replaced with a stony expression, stony enough to rival the stoniest of stones. There was no way I was going to get out of this, especially now that mum was eyeing me like a hawk. Reluctantly, I picked up my fork, and limply speared a bit of the tasty morsel; well, it would be tasty if you were a rabbit. Holding it up to my face, I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared for the assault my mouth was in for. Sighing, I bit off a chunk of the celery and chewed, waiting for the taste to sink in; but it never did. I opened my eyes and inspected the celery. Inside the green tube I saw what looked like a wiggly caterpillar; but it wasn’t just any caterpillar, no, it was HALF a wiggly caterpillar! At that moment, a strange sensation came over my mouth. I spat the half chewed celery out, and poked around it’s mushy remains, until I saw half a caterpillar squashed into the celery. That’s all I remember of that event, because the next moment, my eyes shut and I was out like a light. Well, after that experience, I sort of like celery, but only a bit. And now, I don’t like caterpillars, I despise everything about them, from the way their fat body’s wriggle like mad, to the way they taste like a cross between dirt, petrol, and grass. Don’t ask me how I know what petrol tastes like. That’s a whole other story.
The generic definition of anointing is “to smear or rub with oil, typically as part of a religious ceremony.” In Christian tradition, anointing is an important practice to heal the sick or designate a ceremonial meaning.
Now there happened to be a certain woman who had been the wife of a member of the Guild of Prophets. She cried out to Elisha, “My husband who served you has died, and you know that your servant feared the Lord. But a creditor has come to take away my children into indentured servitude!”
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