There’s a story behind the name of each day of the week. Not all of them are that interesting – like Sunday. “It’s named after the sun.” What kind of story is that? They’re leaving out all the background material, like who the day was named after before the sun. I figure it was a big glowing sea monster that the sun had to fight for the naming rights. That was the end of Seamonstersday, and the monster had to go back to doing the morning weather on the oldies station.

Wednesday’s story is better. There was a guy named Stan who was an innovator in straining soup. All the other strainers would bring in thick soups, like tortellini and rice or hearty minestrone and the straining would take forever. He’d bring in creamy tomato soup and he’d be all done in like a minute. He was so good, he went undercover on a spy mission, to see if the Commies were straining their soup as well as us. They weren’t. Then Uncle Ben parachuted in to see if their rice was done in a minute. It wasn’t. Good times.

One time Stan was in a soup straining contest where the winner got to have a day named for him. And he practiced really hard, because he wanted to name it Stan’s Soup-strainsday. But there was a problem; someone had replaced his tomato soup with cream of bologna! Stan finished in 16th place, and afterwards he flipped out and poured a vat of soup onto the winner. The guy couldn’t stop screaming “I’m wet! I’m wet!”, even when the judges asked when he wanted to name the day. They thought he wanted Wetness Day. Later a deodorant company did a focus group and Wetness Day didn’t “test well,” so they changed it to Wednesday instead.

Stan tried for years to name another day after himself, but he gave up after Martin Luther King, Columbus and the presidents all promised to strain more soup on his behalf. He moved to Muscle Shoals, Alabama, and opened up a soup stand. “Muscle Strain” he called it. But don’t eat there on Wednesdays. I did that once and after I finished my tomato soup Stan’s eyes got all big and ran at me with a big vat of something. I would’ve gotten soaked if Uncle Ben hadn’t airlifted me out by helicopter.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.