"It looks like Rudolph is anorexic!"

I've been making dinner every Sunday ever since I was 8.

Heaven knows why my parents trusted an 8 year old with a knife, with only the supervision of her 13 and occasionally 15 year old sisters.

I had the privilege to make sweet and sour chicken tonight.

I noticed I had to go out to the garage to get some pineapple from our can rack.

Which mean I had to go out into the pouring rain.

I grab my Daddy's shoes and my umbrella and I endure the rain.

I usually grab the first can, and then with my other hand I always hold the second can in case the second can decides to have a mind of his own and comes crashing and tumbling on top of me.

But not this time, my right hand was holding the umbrella and I grabbed the pineapple can...

*BAM*

*BING*

AHHHH!!!!!!!!

*BOOM*

*SMASH*

UGGGGHHAHHHHHCCCCKKK!!!!

*THUMP*

AAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!!

I jumped and danced to the beat of pineapple cans attempting to smash my toes, with my parents unaware of my distress because of the heavy beating of the rain.

I muttered to myself as I put all of the cans back into the can rack, and I go back inside to resume making dinner.

Can rack-1 Emily-0.