Death by Cinnamon

Cinnamon is versatile spice used in all sorts of delicious baked goods and seasonal beverages. The fragrant aroma of cinnamon can fill a room with a warm, homey feeling, especially welcoming on cold winter days. If comfort had a smell, it would smell like cinnamon. You could say that cinnamon is a synonym for comfort. But I wouldn’t recommend trying to say that after too many glasses of mulled wine.

Some know of the medicinal benefits of cinnamon as it relates to the downstairs area — on the old libido. You may not be aware that many sexual issues result from high blood sugar that obstructs the necessary amount of blood to your bits. Sad, sluggish, poor performing privates are impacted by high blood sugar. Cinnamon lowers blood sugar and gets everything going in the groinal region.

Yes, it’s all fuzzy slippers and mineral lamp rocks and consensual, light petting until someone decides to purple nurple your warm and fuzzy and you discover the sinister side of cinnamon.

Cinnamon in excess – not to be confused with INXS –

Source: Supplied
Source: Supplied

and in the wrong hands, can be used as a form of torture. Imagine, if you will, a cinnamon bomb exploding in your house. At first, you are pleased with the familiar scent of apple pie, and you take an extra deep breath to inhale as much sweet warmth as you can. But then, the fiery fog fills the room, and you feel your eyes and throat burning as if someone has shoved a cinnamon scented Glade automatic spray up your nose, forcing cinnamon vapors down your airway and into your lungs. You whimper in pain, which causes you to choke on the sickly tang as the cinnamon poison begins to melt away at your nasal passages. And all you can do is weep and hope that you will release some of the toxins by way of sweet and spicy, syrup tears and pray that someone or some thing will hear your cinnamon-spiced-muffined cries.

That is exactly the horror that I lived the minute Gabriella brought home a cinnamon broom.


I knew nothing of these bristly decorations; these bundles of twigs soaked in Satan’s aftershave until my lady friend brought one into our house and propped it up next to the fireplace last year. I tried to keep an open mind. Perhaps the smell would abate after time. It was possible I would develop a cinnamon tolerance. Instead, the living room became my cinnamon prison. I took comfort in the belief that it was a one-time thing, but once again, there is a cinnamon broom in my house. I feared that it was a tradition in the making; a tradition I could not abide. I had to confront Gabriella.

Deborah: Why DO you buy cinnamon brooms? Did you grow up with them?

Gabriella: No.

Deborah: So, it’s not some sort of nod to your peasant roots in the hills of Sicily when you all used to sweep out your hearths with your besoms?

Gabriella: Our what?? Our bosoms?

Deborah: Besoms! A traditionally constructed broom, made from a bundle of twigs tied to a pole.

Gabriella: Why do you know that?

Deborah: Because I was searching the web for the significance and purpose of those fucking cinnamon brooms when I found more information than I ever hoped to learn about fucking besoms! Old-timey brooms! So is it true that you and your sisters would sweep the ashes from the hearth using a besom?

Gabriella: We didn’t have a hearth, and we also owned a vacuum cleaner.

Deborah: You don’t say?

Gabriella: No besoms.

Deborah: So when did you come to learn of these cinnamon brooms? I mean – it wasn’t until we moved into this house that they started appearing in our lives. You never used to bring them home. The girl I know and love would NEVER have brought home a cinnamon broom or an artificial rhododendron or a velvet portrait of Elvis or a butler statue.

Photo credit:
Photo credit:

Gabriella: What are you saying exactly?

Deborah: It wouldn’t be so bad I suppose if the smell didn’t asphyxiate me every time I walked into the house. Why? Why do you buy them?

Gabriella: I don’t know, Deborah. I saw them at the store, and I picked one up. I kind of like how it smells. It’s like a wreath.

Deborah: A WREATH?!? You mean a CHRISTMAS decoration?? But we don’t celebrate Christmas!! We don’t have a tree or lights or even a Chanukah bush (aside from the one in my pants)…. Is this because you miss Christmas??

Gabriella: No! A wreath was just an example. Of a decoration. That happens to be in the stores around this time of year.

Deborah: YES, because it’s supposed to make your house smell like Christmas! You know, I also learned in my research that cinnamon brooms can be used to ward off negative energy and negative people, but here it sits, stinking up my house with its supposed positive cinnamon powers, and I am feeling very, very negative.

Gabriella: Fine! I won’t buy the cinnamon brooms ever again.

Deborah: Good. I’m glad we had this little talk.

Gabriella: But, I do like the smell.

Deborah: I don’t even know you.

2 thoughts on “Death by Cinnamon

  1. I’m glad that you wrote about the cinnamon brooms though I am sorry Gabriella caved so quickly. I like the idea of you battling turkeys and cinnamon brooms.

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