Creamers. You know what they are. You can get them at any fast food place, or friendly neighborhood diner. They are those little white plastic containers that contain cream for your coffee. Or at least that's what most people use them for. Me, well, I always thought that God made them for kids like me to put under car tires in parking lots. Then you could stand back and watch them get run over by the tire, leaving a large creamy splattered mark and a plastic container crushed beyond all recognition.

But, a few months ago, I realized that I had been falling short of the true power of creamers. There was this book written by Penn and Teller. It's title: How To Play With Your Food. Containing every possible disgusting, humiliating, and ingenious way to play with your food, I discovered the utmost possible enjoyment that one could achieve with everyday creamers. If you can cup a creamer in one hand, making it unseen to others, and hold a fork in the other (which is quite possible), then you are able to perform this trick. All you have to do is JAB the fork into the creamer and pretend you just blinded yourself. I decided to do this tasteless but hysterical practical joke at a nearby restaurant.

It was a fine afternoon. My mother was invited to bring me and my sister for lunch to a local restaurant. My mother's friend brought her kids,who, at the time, were in college. It was a nice meal. When everyone was finished, I was planning to jab myself in the eye with a fork. I secretly held the creamer in my left hand and proceeded to play with my eyelid with the fork. Then, with my right hand, WHAM!! My eye was history. Creamer flew all over my plate, making even the strongest stomach queasy.

But at the same time, a lady sitting across from me caught the whole act. She froze, staring at me, with her food on her fork half-way to her mouth, with eyes as big as softballs about to pop out. To comfort this distraught soul, who thought I had truly destroyed my eye with a fork, I began to wink, squint, and open my eye to show that it was all just pure folly. She realized it was a joke, and, not amused, stared me down with a face filled with anger. She looked at her son of five, and gave him a look that if he ever did such a thing, he would not live to see the next day. For me though, she continued expressions of hostility, contempt, and a burning desire to come over and give me some sort of disciplinary action. Luckily, we left and all ended well. No one was the wiser, and I had not been beaten to a pulp by the unknown woman.

To this day, I continue to use this trick, living for the reaction of my audience. Life is as only as good as what you can get out of it. c