His crimson tie waved gayly in the wind
That’s basically everything
There ever was to know about him
“Isn’t it ironic,” he yelled, “that chilies are hot?” He roared with laughter. “Get it? Chilly? Hot?”
Then as quickly as he arrived he spurred his steed and disappeared into the sunset.
Conflict of Interest disclaimer: No pecuniary or sauce-based compensation was provided in consideration of this post. Not even a lousy 5-ounce bottle. -Ed.
Whatever it had been at one time, it was now a swampish bag of goo. Forty shades of swirling green ziplocked in a plastic bag which moved of its own volition.
“Look,” I said in hushed terror. “It moved. It’s alive! Run, honey, run! Save yourself! Remember, I always loved you!”
I threw myself over the bag and that’s the last I remember of having my own identity. I call it the time before The Other.
Yes, it was time clean out the fridge. Household rules dictate that when we are unable to squeeze a single item in without something else being displaced and bouncing off our toe on its way to the floor it must be time.
Then my wife made another shocking discovery.