Love Is A Loaf

Love is like that mystery meat you used to get in school. You know, when you slowly dragged your feet through the lunch line, the lunch lady scoops up a big gob of goop with that huge spoon and slops it down onto your tray. You look at her, she looks at you. You look at her, she looks at you. You look at her mole, her mole looks at you. And you wonder why there is only one long hair protruding from it.

Then you make it to your table and pick at your food for five minutes trying to dissect it. You notice your friends are eating it and they appear to be fine. Still, you’re apprehensive about taking a bite because your birthday is coming up and your parents promised you a new bike. You really want to ride that bike. Then you shrug your shoulders and say, what the hell, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. And besides, if it makes you sick, you can always spend half the day tossing your cookies in the restroom. A great way to get out from that math test!

Yeah, it’s like that, only better.

Not to worry, you’ll get to ride that bike.