Is it the toaster again? I guess you'll just have to manage with the hot house tomatoes and day old bread that floosie has been subjecting you to. When you have had enough let me know. I MIGHT, and that is a big IF: might come and make y0u a sammich, if you behave of course.
But, Baby, it was just a silly little egg salad sandwich she made for me, and it was on white bread, no less! You know she doesn’t mean anything to me, I barely even know her! You’re the one who makes the BLTs on a cracked wheat bun for me, the ham and cheese on rye, the peanut butter and jelly with thin slices of bananas, the savory meatball with grated cheese, the tuna that goes so well with cream of potato soup! It was raining out, freezing cold, and her clothes were soaking wet that she was shivering. I would have ignored her completely if she hadn’t whispered to me what a great sandwich she makes. So I brought her home with me for one lousy night just to see if it was true, big deal. So she slept on my couch that night and made sandwiches for a few more days before finally moving out, meh. So she knocked on my bedroom door after being there a week and a half and said she wanted to repay my kindnesses, absolutely pointless. It was just a tray of freshly-made grilled cheese and those crackers with bologna and black olives smothered in honey mustard . . . or was that the third week? I’m digressing. The important thing is the I won’t accept a turkey sandwich on pumpernickel from anyone but you! Oh her? Well of course she’s still at my place, but it’s just until she gets back on her feet, and I hardly ever touch the ice cream sandwiches that she makes from scratch every night.
~
This post was edited by Randy D at December 13, 2019 3:38 PM MST
* Hey, it's not my fault. After all I was wearing my red shirt. Everyone know red means stop.
* I was preoccupied by a pretty... uh ... face (at least her shirt said she had a face up ... down ... over... ... somewhere. Honestly, that arrow was rather distracting).
Art Lover 