Willmore 1

Aaron Willmore
VanderSlik
English 100 - 15
20 October 2014
New Years Tacos
Now batting, the raining snow baseball champion, Aaron Willmore. A.K.A. Hank
Aaron! My sister, Hannah, yelled giddily.
I shrugged off her reference of my name to the famous 20th century baseball player,
Hank Aaron, and returned my attention to the task at hand. My father, Adam, was at the
imaginary pitchers mound that he made by clearing a small area in the snow with his boots. His
eyes were squinted, gazing intensely at me. He extended his arm back behind his shoulder. In his
hand he held what resembled a baseball only it was composed of crystallized water. Snow and
ice from the ground were compacted together to form the ball, as is commonly used in snowball
fights. This time it was to be used in a different game than a snowball fight; this time it was to be
used in Americas pastime, baseball.
He flung his arm forward, releasing the ball like a mighty stone from a slingshot. It sliced
through the cold air like a cannon ball, hurtling right for me. As if on instinct I swung the whiffle
ball bat that I held in my hands. It connected with the ball causing the snow to explode from its
compacted state. Everyone, myself included, burst into laughter.
Dinner is ready! My mom shouted from the kitchen window.
We hurried inside, half because of the cold and half because of our hunger pains. Mostly
it was just to fill our empty stomachs.

Willmore 2
The kitchen was lively with one person jumping from counter to counter, getting different
food toppings and sides. One minute my cousin could be beside me then they could be on the
side of the kitchen. It didnt overwhelm me though because it was worth the claustrophobic
feeling. It is always worth the effort when the main dish is tacos. I worked my way around the
kitchen, slapping two soft taco shells on my plate, then some taco meat, followed by cheese, and
topped off with ripped pieces of lettuce. While I do not prefer to put any sauce on my tacos, my
cousin enjoys, as oddly as this may sound, to put A1 steak sauce on her tacos. This was the first
time I had ever heard of something so odd.
Do you guys have A1 sauce? My cousin, named Markey, asked.
We stared at her, dumbfounded.
You put steak sauce on your taco? I inquired.
Heck yeah I do! It tastes great! She replied.
My mother handed her the sauce from the fridge. I watched, in nausea, as she dripped the
sauce onto the taco, ruining it more and more with each droplet. I swore I could have heard the
taco crying out to me, begging for me to save it from the eternal agony of being an awkward
steak sauce covered taco. The cries rang out with each tap of the bottom of the sauce container,
causing more sauce to coat the beautiful meat. Alas, I could not save it from the great taste bud
injustice. I poured myself a glass of cherry cola and swiftly departed to the basement, for I didnt
want to see the gross taco anymore.
We gathered around the television in the basement, we being my cousin Kait, her sister
Markey, my sister Hannah, and I. Old original episodes of Loony Toons were being displayed on
the television. The 1930s innocent violence soaked into our young minds as we filled our

Willmore 3
stomachs with our food. Suddenly I let out a loud belch. We all started laughing. Then I started
burping repeatedly, in a rapid manner.
Jeez Aaron. You alright? Kait asked, the laughs still breaking through her mild
concern.
Yep, I belched out.
I once had an addiction to cherry cola. It would be once or twice a day I would have a 20
ounce bottle. The carbonation in the soda caused me to have a lot of bubbles in my stomach. The
bubbles then turned into repetitive burps. Now I dont drink soda at all because of this and other
issues it caused.
You guys wanna watch the ball drop? My mother asked from the stairway.
Oh boy did we! We hurried up the stairs, ran through the kitchen, and made it into the
living room. The television was turned on and the ball was slowly descending in Times Square.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, we chanted in anticipation, six, five, four.
The ball was about to meet its destination. Our eyes were glued to the screen, and our
mouths half open, ready to scream.
Three, two, one, happy new year! We howled in delight.
It was a new year, one more year that the world didnt end unlike what loons on the
Internet always suggest. Another year ahead to be filled with memories and experiences. It was a
joyous day indeed.