I've been food insecure all my life.
But it didn't get really bad
until last March.
That's when my magic breadbox
stopped working.
Up until then
all I had to do was
wish for a meal or
food item and it would magically
appear in front of me.
Kinda like those replicator
thingies in Start Trek.
Except mine was magic;
it was given to me by a
troupe of elves
on their way to a Yankees
baseball game long ago.
After the calamity
I felt so food insecure
that I regressed into the
state of an amoeba.
I mean literally --
I became a one-celled organism.
Somehow I managed to land
on a head of iceberg lettuce
in a school cafeteria,
and a heroic lunch lady,
exclaiming "What in the world
is this piece of yuck doing on
the sandwich lettuce -- don't
they wash this stuff no more?"
gently removed me with a paper
towel and set me in a petri
dish.
Where I prospered so well
that I turned back into a human
being.
And I married that lunch lady.
Her name is Ruthie.
She makes me spaghetti
with Hormel chili whenever I want.
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