Overcoming adversity is an essential ingredient in the great American character. I myself was born with a crippling fear of spatulas. Metal spatulas, wooden spatulas, even plastic spatulas–it didn’t matter. At the mere sight of one of these hideous, crooked monsters I would shake with fear, go blind with panic, and wet my pants. It wasn’t until one day, when I was really really hungry for an omelet, that I stood up and said enough! If I don’t make this omelet, right here and right now, then the spatulas win. I could not let that happen. And so I made that omelet, but the spatula slipped from my grip, slicing my hand clean off. The doctor’s could not save my hand (it had fallen in hot bacon grease), but they were able to fuse a new prosthetic onto my stump: the spatula. Now that I have a spatula for a hand, I make an omelet every day.
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