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February 16, 2006
Martha's breath smells faintly of mustard every time I see her. Whether she's just eaten a hot dog from a street vendor, or spooned the stuff directly from the jar into her mouth, I cannot say. It is difficult to discern the type of mustard (French's yellow? Gulden's spicy brown? Grey Poupon? Honey dijon? Plastic packet from Chinese takeout?), especially when all I can really think is "Mustard Mouth Martha"and how it would be just neato if she married a man named Karl whose breath was redolent of ketchup, and they spawned little Ricky Relish and Helen Hot Sauce.