Somehow, the first day of 1L Orientation coordinated with a box of a dozen fancy muffins arriving from the boyfriend’s “evil stepmonster”, as she so wishes to be called (What is it with mothers wanting to be called anything but.. mothers? Sorry, Mom.. I mean, uh.. dining partner..), and I was reminded of the little baby minimuffins my mum used to make when I started kindergarten and whatnot, little applesauce things rolled in cinnamon sugar. She even sent me a box for the first day of freshman year of college, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t see a one, since I made the mistake of letting it be, well, known that I had real, live baked goods.
But now I’m older. And wiser. And a lot more stressed out. So it was only appropriate that I start off my journey into the depths of law with a gourmet pear muffin that had an entire bottle of brandy in it. OK, maybe not, but how would I even know? I scarfed that baby down before we even got to the bus stop.
You see, these muffins have been the source of all kinds of controversy around these parts lately. The boyfriend’s writing partner likes to stuff his face full of them and then ask “What muffins?” with the crumbs flecking out of his mouth; his sheep-owning friend has “no recollection” of any such muffins being on her property.. So where did they all go? She certainly didn’t see anything..
Combine those two with the boyfriend himself, and I was beyond lucky to actually score one, the 10 Dollar Poison Muffin.
OK, so it was free for me, but apparently evil stepmonster used to sell them for around ten bucks, which makes me sort of look up from my Contracts casebook and daydream for awhile.. What will I name my bakery? This is very important, after all.. Hawkins v. McGee who? Who cares?
Anyway, so they weren’t ten bucks for me, but they would be for you. Like I said, these babies are fancy. They’ve each got an entire pear in them, plus all the brandy, and basically all the divined deliciousness on top of that. I don’t even want to know the calorie content.. I knew it was pretty high, and since my figure is what’s going to help me pass Civ Pro, I paired the muffin with a really poorly suited beverage choice.. Sugar Free Rockstar! Gotta stay awake somehow, as if the ghost stories of law students who couldn’t pass the Character and Fitness Exam because of some random picture on their Facebook weren’t enough to scare me into quiet submission.
Alright, so we’ve established they weren’t ten bucks, but what about the poison bit? That’s a pretty serious accusation, don’t you think? I could get sued for.. for.. for a number of things! For defamation of character, for libel, for infliction of emotional distress! Poisoned it was, though. That little thing was putting me to sleep in a coma of “mmmmmm” until I was bitten by love’s first kiss. The first kiss of.. of.. of law.
Yeah, I said it.
I’d been dreading law school since the idealization would finally become manifest, and that meant consequence would be on me. But then.. the director of the Criminal Defense Clinic spoke, and I listened. And drooled, but in a good way. And then I started briefing cases, and I got little butterflies using phrases like “motion for a direct verdict” and “JNOV” (Only the cool kids’ll know that one). We’re in love, aren’t we, Law? Well, maybe not quite yet, but I’m definitely bitten.
Ten Dollar Poison Muffin
Find a boyfriend with an evil stepmonster who makes delicious muffins.