Wiser than the average Ninny

Amazingly enough another anonymous has posed a most delectable inquiry. This anonymous reader has asked: "How did you become so wise?"

Well, Mr/Ms anonymous, you obviously have excellent powers of observation. I must say the story of my wisdom is a wonderful tale, much like the tale of why Fox loves Chicken. The story begins a few years ago when I came into existence. You see, unlike most humans, Ninny was formed whole, fully grown, and conscious. The base knowledge of life had already been implanted in my mind when I came into being, so the years of childhood and adolescence were not a great loss. You see, Ninnies such as myself, do not like pickles. There is the exception mind you, I happen to enjoy pickled beats occasionally, however most anything else pickled (with the exception of my liver) I shy away from.

Pickled objects, it seems, are quite well liked the world over. I even know a gentleman who likes to imbibe pickled herring. Imagine the torturous death of that poor small fish, drug from it's ocean home, suffocated, gutted, and thrown in a jar with other fish of it's kind. Once in the jar the poor thing was subsumed in vinegar and a few special spices. Horrible. At any rate, being a Ninny who is not fond of pickles, I of course, found myself at a meeting for those who don't like pickles. The meeting was mind numbling slow and I slipped out back for a smoke. The meeting was being held in a small commercial building, which happened to be home also to a Vietnamese Deli. The smells that wafted from the dumpster behind the center were mesmerizing. As I lit my cigarette I wandered over to the dumpster and peered in. I was curious if there happened to be any left over Pho or other such delicacies for angst ridden Ninnies to play with. To my dismay, there was none. Oddly, there was no food of any form in this dumpster. Despite the suggestive odor,there was a meer three things dwelling inside the waste receptical. They were:
1. A very sad and dilapidated house plant.
2. A gift reciept for a massage wand (not to be used on unexplained calf-pain) from Target.
3. A rather non-descript white box with something written on it in plain san-serrif black letters.
Of course the first thing I went for was the gift receipt, you never know when you'll be in need of such a thing. Why, just the other day I was looking for a place to put my gum when I realized I had already used up that blessed gift receipt (note to Ninny: check dumpsters for future gum recepticals). Once the receipt was safely stowed in my wallet I turned to the plant. Well, being a Ninny I have a definite fondness for house plants. This poor neglected thing cried out to me. I cradled the wilting dear for a few moments, then set it down to search out the final Dumpster goody. The box.

Now dear anonymous, it is important to note that this was no ordinary non-descript white box. It was infact a non-descript white box that was living in a dumpster with a wilting house plant and a gift receipt. Therefor I new there was something unusual, even mystical about this box. It harkened back to the implanted memories of the childhood I never had. Generic groceries from Lucky with their plane yellow label and bold black san-serrif letters that read "generic". I held the box into the light. Lowered it again, put out my cigarette, and raised it into the light once more. There, in bold san-serrif letters it stated: "Instant Wisdom."

"My my! I thought, "This could come in handy."

I turned the box over in my hands looking for abrasions, small tears, any sign of opening, thinking, perhaps, I could use the gift receipt to return it for an unopened box. But the white box was perfectly intact. I read the back under where it told me, quite clearly:
Directions:
Open box, empty content onto Ninny."

So I did. Once the wisdom had soaked in, I tossed the now empty box into the dumpster, picked up the house plant, and went to head back to the meeting. That's when I experienced my first taste of true wisdom. It dawned on me then, that, even if I, as a Ninny, don't like pickles, that doesn't mean I need a support group, even if they do provide free coffee. Though I do return for meetings around the holidays. They always have the best stale grocery store cookies.