There were six of us
sitting at a table in the mess hall, waiting for breakfast to be served. We
were all hungry, but the only items on the table that were edible was a stick
of butter and a container of maple syrup. One of my best friends, James, looked
down the butter, thought for a little bit, and then stated:
“I will give $10 to anyone who eats this stick of butter
straight.”
I thought for a moment. I then looked at the butter and
then at James with his blue eyes and his black curly hair. I didn’t know if he
was joking or not. Usually I could not take him seriously, but I had to make
sure he was for real.
For
my first Youth Conference my stake went to Palmyra for the weekend. We stayed
at a camp where Girl’s Camp happened every year. This meant actual cabins,
beds, and bathrooms. All of the boys rejoiced since we did not have that great
of facilities as Scout Camp. The first day there we went to the Palmyra temple
and did the tours. That day was fun. However, it was the second day in which
the trip became interesting because of friendship and bad decisions.
“Dude! $10 for eating butter?” I asked. I was only 14 at
the time, and I thought $10 was a good price for a simple activity.
“Yeah,” he stated “I have the money in my bag, and you
will get it immediately after the challenge is done.”
I thought for a moment. $10 did seem like a lot, and I
was pretty bored and hungry already. I looked down at the butter. It didn’t
seem as if it would be that hard.
“All right. I’ll do it. You promise me you will pay?” I
asked.
“I promise,” said James.
“This is going to be nasty,” said a boy that we were
sitting with.
I picked up the butter. It was soft, so I had to scoop it
up in chunks. I thought to myself, maybe
this wasn’t the best idea. However, a bet is a bet, and I would not back
out. I put the first chunk in my mouth. It slid down my throat with ease. That
feeling was one of the most disgusting things I have ever felt in my life. This was going to be harder than I thought.
I picked up the second chunk. By this time several kids
were cheering me on and a crowd started to assemble. I could see the disgusted
look on a girl’s face while I was eating. It looked as if she wanted to
throw-up. I thought to myself, no, I must
go through with this. There’s a crowd. I can’t back down now. I have to do it
for my peers.
I was about one bite away from finishing the butter, and when
a leader came over. Brother Smith (name has been changed to protect the
innocent), the second counselor of the take Young Mens, came over looking half
bewildered and half angry.
“What the heck is going on here?” he asked.
I
was eating the butter for about three minutes and Brother Smith didn’t come
over until most of the kids made the crowd. Darn crowd. I could have gotten
away with it if they didn’t show up. James and I began to explain quickly about
the situation and the bet. Actually, James did most of the talking — I was
feeling sick.
“James,
you better pay Grant the money. If you don’t, the next time you come in for
your teeth cleaning I will personally drill holes in all of your teeth,” stated
Brother Smith. I had forgotten that Brother Smith was James’s dentist. “And
Grant, at least you could have gone for $20.”
“I
will definitely give him the money. I was going to anyway,” said James as he
ran to get the money out of his bag.
The
announcement was made shortly after that the butter on the tables was for
eating with the pancakes and not by itself. I could see some people’s faces and
it looked like they were asking themselves, who
would do such a dumb thing? For the rest of the day I smelled like butter.
Even my sweat was the consistency and smell of the I Can’t Believe it’s Not Real Butter spray. I was very happy to get home that day. When I got home my parents
asked me how Youth Conference was. I didn’t think they needed to know.
The
next day was a Sunday. The story of me and the butter spread like wild-fire
because James was telling everyone about it. He even told the Bishop, who
happened to be my Dad. I came out of the chapel after Sacrament Meeting just in
time to hear the ending of the story James was telling my Dad.
“…and
then I had to pay him the money,” concluded James.
“I
have an idiot for a son!” my Dad declared.
“Wow.
Thanks, Bishop. I’m really feeling the love right now,” I said. My Dad had not
seen me come up behind him.
“Grant,
you have to admit that that was one dumb move that you made,” said my Dad.
“I
know, but at least I got the money,” I told him.
I
did not eat butter for the next three months. Every time I saw butter, it made
me relive that feeling of it slipping down my throat. Whenever I’m around my
friends they always bring up the story. Even when James and I are in American
Heritage he still brings up the bet.
“Hey.
Theoretically, if I had a stick of butter would you eat it for ten dollars?” he
asked me once.
“Heck
no, man,” I replied.
“You’re
done with taking ridiculous bets?”
“No,
I just wouldn’t do it for ten bucks. It would have to be at least thirty before
I even start considering.”
“It’s
good to know that you don’t do it for so cheaply anymore,” he told me.
“Yeah, at least I learned something from that experience,” I said.
