It was a dark and stormy night It was afternoon, on a Tuesday. The kids were in bed and I was half-crazed with hunger. Not the kind of starvation where I might imbibe a horse. After all, I wasn't that far gone. No, it was a discerning hunger. One that turned up its nose (does hunger have a nose?) at the most common of repasts. Frozen bean burritos would not satisfy me, this day. I barely sacrificed a glance at the leftover spaghetti on my sweep of the fridge. And then, as if a glowing beacon shone down, leading the way, I saw it.
kind of poky.
The last artichoke.
I knew then, what my destiny was.
Side note: if artichokes aren't your thing and you feel your personal experience of reading this story is being ruined thereby---please feel free to imagine whatever it is that is your particular idea of culinary heaven.
okay...now back to the choke.
I spied the perfect compliment to my future meal.
It was perfect.
It was exquisite.
It was mayo.
I scarcely knew how I could stand the 25 minute wait.
But I did.
I can only poorly describe the delectable goodness, the mind blowing taste explosion, when I first partook of that much sought after food.
Did I mention it was the last artichoke?
It was about the third worm that I encountered, that made me think I might not be able to enjoy this particular meal. I can't say I was exactly angry. No. I was too much in shock to be angry. Did they think they would win, with their cool demeanor, lily white bodies, and saucy attitude? I heard there was strength in numbers. Oh yes... I was sure there were more of them. Waiting...biding their time.
Suddenly it was upon me.
I had a choice to make.
What would I do?
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