or: The Deceit of Cyanoacrylate
Superglue is never the hero it purports to be. Sure, you can glue your nose to your kneecap, turn your hands into flippers, seal your urethra so tightly you eventually expand and explode like a slow-motion re-enactment of Yaphet Kotto at the end of Live and Let Die. But none of these practical biological applications fall within the product’s advertised usage parameters.
Why does anyone buy superglue? You buy it because you want to glue your hardhat to an I-beam and hang from it, thereby demonstrating the inhuman strength of your average insane person. But before you can do that—once you’ve purchased the superglue and it’s rattled around in your junk drawer for a year—you are struck by the idea that if superglue can dangle a deranged, beefy riveter over a deadly construction site with no ill effects then certainly it can repair the broken handle on your $1.99 spaghetti scooper.
So you grab the tube and try to squeeze a drop on the handle. Out instead flows a gallon, coating half your body. Somehow you are still able to connect the broken pieces and you leave the repaired scooper to set while you retire to the master suite to bathe in fingernail polish remover.
The next day, confident in your newfound ability to actually serve it up, you cook spaghetti. And here’s where the superglue really fails to live up to its designation. No doubt it truly can suspend a construction worker since that feat would never ever be needed in this universe. But once you’ve mixed sauce into the spaghetti and the scooper emerges from the pot cradling a heaping horde of strands, the superglue suddenly realizes the scooper pieces are most definitely not the hardhat and I-beam it believed them to be and immediately releases its magical bond, sending half a pound of spaghetti plummeting onto the cat. The cat thoroughly enjoys this and indicates her glee by racing throughout the entire house, depositing one strand per square foot onto every exposed surface of your previously spaghetti-free dwelling.
As you come completely unglued, you realize, with escalating fury, that superglue has finally accomplished its true mission.