I have always been fond of biting things. I'm the person that always bites hard candy and completely crunches it up before the it's hardly out of its wrapper. Squeaky cheese is another favorite. One of the most vibrant memories of biting something goes back to a Sunday afternoon when I was about six years old. I had been marveling at the wonders of Silly Putty and how it picked up the images of Family Circle, Dagwood, and Beetle Baily when it was smashed and flattened out on the Sunday Comics. I enjoyed stretching their faces into odd contortions and then laying one image over another and pulling them apart.
It smelled like rubber bands.
It felt like smooth, plastic playdough.
It was the color of shiny flesh.
It made no sound - unless it created an air bubble during play that you could snap and pop.
But, yes, how did it taste? Well, I guess I needed to find this information out. I remember sitting on the floor near the fireplace and carefully looking around to see if anyone was looking at me. The coast was clear. I had to go for it. I took one squeaky bite into the dome of rubber. As you can surmise, it was not yummy. It was like chewing on the leg of Malibu Barbie. However, I was a bit intrigued by the marks my teeth left. I was just about to give it one more try to see what kind of indentation my molars would leave when I heard those damning words: "EEEW! Julie's eating Silly Putty, Mom! That's so gross! I can't believe you're eating that - it's like you're a puppy or something!!"
Experiment over. Will eat strange things behind closed door next time.