It was J, in the Kitchen, with a BonBon

I almost killed a man named Harry when I was 22 with almonds and ice cream.

As all new grads do, I left college and was ready to take on the world. Or rather, I was ready to take on the small hamlet of Evansville in Southern Indiana. I was going to do big things, save many lives through my work at the mental hospital, rock the illustrious Southern Indiana music scene in the band Movin’ the Pharmacy.

But first I needed a place to live. I looked on a local housing bulletin board, saw Harry’s name, and realized he was only one block from campus. “Hmmmm…” I thought to myself. “I may have to leave campus, but maybe I don’t have to leave college. Especially if I live so close.” I called Harry and we met the next day.

He didn’t seem like an ax murderer, he was willing to give me space in his garage for my car, he had a washer and dryer. I could live with the things I didn’t like…he didn’t like natural sunlight in his house and therefore the thick curtains were closed all the time. And his furniture was very old and very dark, making the place a little like a funeral home. He was also in his 40s and had never been married. Actually, he didn’t have much of a way with women at all. He was your stereotypical computer nerd, complete with pocket protector.

Yeah, we had about as much in common as the Pope and Lucille Ball have in common. We didn’t become best buddies and we don’t still keep in touch. But he was a good man, and I had no intentions of killing him.

The problem is that he was allergic to everything. Things that I didn’t know a person could be allergic to, he had to avoid like the plague for fear of a gruesome death. I swear, I could put some pocket lint on the table in front of him and he would jump up, making the sign of the cross and chanting in Latin.

I didn't dislike the guy. And I wanted to be better at relating to people. In a rare attempt at closing the gap between him and I, in an attempt to bond, I bought some bonbons from a local primo ice cream shop. These things were good, let me tell you. The were made fresh, and nothing beat eating cold ice-cream bonbons with a hot cup of fresh coffee. It was a delicacy, let me tell you.

The bonbons came in three flavors; chocolate, vanilla, and... what was the third flavor? I couldn't think of the third one at the time. It's been years since I’ve been to Evansville, but the thought of those bonbons makes my mouth water for Lics Ice Cream. I brought the container home, brewed some coffee, and we sat down to tell some stories and bond. That’s when the trouble began.

The first 3 or 4 bonbons were eaten without incident. Nee, we were enjoying them immensely. That’s when Harry took a bite, and froze.

“Jeff, what are the flavors of these again?” Harry asked.

“Ummmm…I know there are chocolate and vanilla. The third one, I can’t remember.” I answered.

“Is it almond?”

“YES! That’s it, it’s almond. Thank you, that was driving me crazy!” I answered, relieved that we finally had the answer and oblivious to the hesitation and fear in Harry’s voice.

“I’m deathly allergic to almonds." Harry said with a combination of wild fear and loathing in his eyes. "I have to go have an injection before my respitory system shuts down. Already, my mouth is tingling and becoming numb.” Harry jumped from the table and headed into the back bedroom where he kept his walk-in closet-sized medicine chest.

He came back 15 minutes later or so, and I was relieved he was still alive. Accidentally killing someone is such an awkward experience. He wasn’t speaking to me…I think he expected me to assume he was allergic to almonds, since he had allergies to everything else. The bonding experience had gone horribly awry, I realized, and it was best if I left the house for a while. I checked my bedsheets before going to bed for the next month, looking for signs of any poisonous snakes or spiders.

For years, my best friend Craig and I have laughed about this. With a sinister voice, we often call each other chuckling evilly and asking over the phone “Having trouble breathing, Harry? Perhaps you’d like another bonbon…”

If I learned one lesson, it’s not to try to bond with a housemate. It could be fatal, and that’s just not a stressor I need to add to my hectic and stressful life.