Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Yeah, it's a sonnet, about ham... what's the problem?

Goodbye Easter Ham

I loved you like no other, yon ham.
With happy heart and joyous face
I supped with you and not roast lamb.
And licked my lips with poise and grace.

Extra care I gave to save you
In a Ziploc bag sealed with a kiss.
Oh muse, love with absence indeed grew
Fonder, in dreams of you on Swiss.

But something terrible transpired.
Locked gate separated me and fridge.
My bosom was robbed of all it desired
By a chasm that no man could bridge.

Apart from you in pain I dwell
Here all alone in my hamless hell.

Friday, March 18, 2005

The Deli Giveth and the Deli Taketh Away

"For here or to go?" It is a simple question really, one that I answered many times without ever giving thought to just what it could come to mean. More often than not I answered "to go", never realizing that my very words were being collected and concentrated like drops of caustic venom in a mad scientist's laboratory to one day be spit back in my face, much like a cobra spits into the eyes of an aggressor, or, more aptly, like a mother bird poisons its chicks with her deadly regurgitation.

And what, you ask, might be the first course? A chilled plate of Cold-Blooded Convenience, followed by the new house special: leg of Shattered Expectations slathered in Woebegone sauce.

Apparently proper human decency and Christian love are no longer on the menu at the Point Break Cafe. That's right, the sandwich bar is gone. Gone are the pickles, cucumbers, onions and mushrooms. Gone is the hopeful twinkle I saw in my roommate's eye every time he branched out and ordered roast beef on rye instead of turkey on wheat. Ah, turkey on wheat--our once rapturous and tear-filled reunions have been reduced to the businesslike formality of a trip to the cafeteria; what once was a welcoming path to your delicious embrace is no longer a through street.

This parting took place some time ago, but it was a wound too great and too deep to be treated when it was first dealt. And like the bloody carnage wrought by a bullet must be suppressed by morphine and a torn bed sheet while the enemy presses in, the necessity of moving on forced me to treat my pain with a half-felt joke and a cup of Yoplait.

Well, the healing powers in a serving of dairy only last so long, and as I begin to peel back the blood caked bandages and swab my wound with pre-made ham on croissant, I feel as if buying PBC credit was like investing $150 in a bank that switched from dollars to wampum or in a chicken that switched from eggs to grandma's old L'eggs.

Oh how I long for a second chance, just one more opportunity to answer that ancient question with the knowledge that I now possess. "For Here!" I would shout it to the heavens. I would tear my shirt and beat my breast, pour ashes on my head for another chance to have a freshly made sandwich from the PBC. But for now I can only fill out a comment card from time to time and return to my fruitless search to find something that will fill this provolone-shaped hole in my heart.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

I am pretty sure throwing pennies into this fountain prevents your wish from coming true.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

I Am Completely Out of Ideas

I have no inspiration and no clue what I am about to write. Don't say I didn't warn you, because what follows will be unedited and uncensored free-flowing stream of thought madness.

I used to spend my time coming up with proverbs like "no rooster can lay quite like a hen." I think that was a good use of my time, considering that I could have been eating things I found on the ground instead.

Last summer during our family reunion my brother and I stayed up until three in the morning laughing about how funny a Bad Dudes movie would be. The walls in the cabin were pretty thin, so my mom also stayed up until three in the morning not laughing about how funny a Bad Dudes movie would be, but I bet it warmed her heart anyway. We were right though, it would be funny. What isn't funny about two bad dudes battling thousands of color-coded ninjas as they run, walk and train hop their way to the White House so they can rescue the president?

I have an interview for covenant group leader in twenty minutes. I guess I should get pretty and head out soon.

Well, that was fun. I hope you had a good time. See you later. I'll miss you. Don't forget to write. Oh yes, and don't say I didn't warn you.