Apples for goalposts

When I was a kid, probably no older than eight, I was in my cousins’ house, for a sleepover, and my cousin ate an entire apple, core and all, in our shared bedroom. I ate most of mine but I Ieft the butt.

My uncle came in – I believe he was sober at the time – and my cousin pointed out that I hadn’t eaten all of my apple. My uncle looked at the apple core and told me to eat it.

The order at the time would almost have been as ludicrous as if he had asked me to eat a banana skin, take a shot of whiskey or light up his cigarette.
Apple cores don’t taste nice. Even today they’re not eaten by most people.
And broadly speaking, people didn’t eat butts in bed back in the 80s.
So I just said No, making clear that his request was ridiculously unfair, that it was not part of any apple-eating compact I had made at any point in my life, and I wasn’t going to be held to ransom over how to consume apples.

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