Don't eat acorns.

Yesterday I was flipping through The Pocket Dictionary, edited by W.J. Pelo. My copy was printed in July 1943. It's a mess. The vibrant, red and black cover is wrinkled; tears obscure the 40s-style lettering. But my grandfather gave it to me that way. (That's probably a lie. I don't remember.)

Mr. Pelo's pocket dictionary -- which does not fit in my pocket, if you were considering purchasing a copy -- defines acorn as "the fruit of the oak."

Fruit, huh? Well, Pelo, I used to eat acorns, and let me tell you something: They ain't sweet. Hey, wait, didn't you play soccer, Pelo? What the fuck are you doing writing dictionaries?

I ate acorns because a book told me to. In elementary school, people were always saying, "Don't believe everything you see on TV." So I didn't believe everything I saw on TV. Instead, I believed everything they told me, and I believed books.

The book that got me hooked on acorns was My Side of the Mountain, I think. In it, some city brat flees his crass sailor dad, burns the heart of a tree, and lives in its blackened skeleton. He traps and mutilates small animals. And he makes acorn pancakes.

Now, I like pancakes. I especially like hotcakes from McDonald's, although I don't know what makes them hotcakes and not pancakes, because usually both are served hot. And I assume both are made in a pan, although McDonald's hotcakes might be submerged in those water-filled drawers they broil hamburgers in. I don't wake up early enough to find out.

So, having read that you can make pancakes from acorns, and believing everything I read in books, I strolled into my backyard and collected the noble fruit of the oak. I probably starved a few chipmunks in the process, but that comes with the My Side of the Mountain territory.

I laid one acorn on a rock, then sat down with my legs curled under me, like a girl. I'm willing to bet that my maroon nylon pants swished loudly when I got into that position, and my glasses, with lenses about an inch in diameter, probably slid down the bridge of my nose. As you can probably tell, I was a loser.

I picked up another rock, hoisted it high above my head, and smashed that motherfuckin' fruit real good. What's up now, Pelo? Then I put the acorn's shiny white innards in my mouth and nibbled with my nerdy teeth.

Bitter. Very bitter.