Walking down the street after leaving my painting class yesterday evening, I passed a leg of ham, sitting alone on a bench, propped upright and half-wrapped in a plastic bag. When I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye as I walked past, it scared me; so much so that I yelped and jumped away, almost running into a crowd of people who were walking down the opposite side of the sidewalk.
Realizing what it was (a leg of dry-cured Spanish ham, not a preternatural cadaver), I began to laugh. I laughed so hard, I laughed all the way home.
Oh Spain, how I shall miss you.
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