When I was in youth group we would always start with the Pointless Game of the Night. We played all kinds of weird little games to break the ice and have a little fun. Every year it seems like someone would suggest that we play the classic game Chubby Bunny. My youth pastor would never let us play Chubby Bunny. He said it was dangerous. I would always roll my eyes at that comment. How could stuffing marshmallows in your mouth be dangerous? Marshmallows are like sugary little pillows, not deadly weapons. I went all the way through middle school and high school youth group and never played Chubby Bunny.
Well I came to college and never really gave any thought to the game Chubby Bunny. I was way too busy thinking about other, more scholarly and sophisticated things of course. Until last year, my junior year when the game popped back into my life. Someone had had a bonfire and there were leftover marshmallows on my hall. I was in my friend, Hillary's, room and the two of us were just hanging out, not doing much of anything. We grabbed a bag of marshmallows and decided to have a little snack. I was suddenly feeling curious about Chubby Bunny. My youth pastor was not there to tell me I wasn't allowed to play. I felt so free to throw caution to wind and take a crack at this "dangerous" game. Hillary agreed that it would be fun, so we started stuffing the marshmallows in our mouths. We both had gotten 5 in and could still utter the words "chubby bunny," we were feeling good. I shoved one more in and started laughing hysterically. So, picture two 20 years olds alone in a dorm room laughing with mouths full of marshmallows. It was not our finest moment. We thought it was funny enough to go next door and show Sarah and Aimee. They laughed at us too. At this point I was laughing so hard with marshmallows in my mouth and suddenly one went right down my throat! I didn't want to make a big deal about it, so I just went into my room to take care of the problem.
My youth pastor was right. This is a terrible game to play. The sugary pillows that seemed so happy before suddenly turned into monsters in my mouth. I spit out the other 5 that I had in my mouth still. The one in my throat was already dissolving and turning into a thick, stickiness that was coating my throat. I could not breathe! Hillary came in my room and saw my dilemma. She started patting me on the back and freaking out. I appreciated her support, but it was not helping me breathe. Finally, she yelled into the hall, "Help! Caroline is choking!" Sarah came running in from next door. She was so calm and she said, "I took a baby sitting class when I was 12, do you want me to do the heimlich?" I had not been able to breathe for about a minute and a half at this point and panic was setting in so I nodded my head vigorously. Well she did the heimlich, and it worked! The marshmallow came right up. I guess I owe Sarah my life.
I don't know why these sorts of things happen to me. I should just listen to my youth pastor I suppose. I will never play Chubby Bunny again. It was definitely tons of fun while I could still breathe though. When Hillary told her mom what happened she said, "Why don't you girls just braid each other's hair instead?" I wish we had asked her for suggestions before.