Watched too much Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles..
...as a seven-year-old, and decided that I wanted to eat a chocolate spread and marshmallow pizza. After somehow persuading mum to buy the bases and ingredients, she went out for the evening leaving my dad 'in charge' of proceedings.

Little sister (all of five) and I rarely played well together at that age, so we huffily made one massive gooey chocolate aberration each, secretly rapt by the fact that we'd each managed to get that much glorious chocolate into a single meal.

Now we had two (uncooked) nine-inch pizzas, smeared in Nutella, and then generously topped with big, fluffy, marshmallows. Clearly dazed by the fact that he'd been left in charge, and horrified by what his children had created, we were then told in calm clear tones that would would not be allowed to leave the table until we'd finished what we'd made. He wanted us to eat a pizza each.

The next half an hour passed in a spinny, vomit-inducing terror of sugar, tears and plaintive cries. Both sister and I were slumped over the table covered in frothy sugar-barf by the time he came to his senses and whipped us upstairs for an emergency bath before mum got home.

I still can't eat marshmallows.
(SimianKid internet faffer, Mon 29 Nov 2010, 15:09, Reply)