The Gift that Killed Me

My mother loved obedience tests. I told her I couldn't eat ginger, and she put it in every single meal.

"Who's allergic to ginger? You're just being picky."

For my eighteenth birthday she went out and bought half a ton of it, then made an all-ginger banquet and a bottle of homemade ginger perfume.

She looked at me, pleased with herself.

"Ginger cures everything. I'm doing this for your own good."

"Only a spoiled kid refuses ginger. I minced it all up this time. Let's see you pick it out now."

My mother was delighted. As far as she was concerned, the test had worked.