Spaghetti and Meat Bombs
I’m starting to notice the fact that the only countries that get those emergency parachute packages are the war ones. The Toronto skyline is a decent one, but it’s not a sight that has ever been dubiously blessed by flying sandwiches. To my knowledge. If I’m wrong, it’s alright because I used the phrase “to my knowledge”. If you have ever seen full picnics descend from urban skies like revelatory angels, you can feel free to correct me. No hard feelings. Honestly. I’d welcome the input. It gets very lonely here.
Anyway. The places that get the gift baskets are the unsteady ones. The ones with the guns and the mines. The mines seem to be a slightly bigger deal when packages are getting randomly dropped across the land.
Your lunch has just landed in a minefield. Are you going to take the risk? How easily navigable are these places? I wouldn’t even wander into a corn maze for a free meal. I’m not going to dodge subterranean ninja explosives for some bread and a few apple slices. Oh? There’s caramel dip? This does nothing for me.
I can’t speak for everybody. Obviously. That’s obvious. I don’t pretend to do so. I never would. I might if I were paid for it. That would be the one exception. Apart from that, I never would.
Maybe the risk is acceptable for you. That’s alright. Maybe this whole thing is a worthy endeavour for you. Perhaps the quest is a reasonable one. How do I know? I don’t. Really. There’s an easy diagnostic, though. Which is more important to you? Salami or your leg?
Again. It’s not for me to judge.
I’m just struck by the frequency with which minefields and parachute meals coincide. Is it some sort of Pavlovian thing? Are the people with the button fingers just trying to bring people around to the state of affairs where bombs are concerned? Is that what’s happening? Are they attempting to make people more comfortable with explosions? Someone’s missing an arm and a few facial features, but he got a salad out of the deal. Mines and meals! After the next one, he’ll have a missing foot and lasagna. After a while, explosions and food are just going to be intrinsically linked in his mind. He’ll salivate when he hears loud noises.
“When’s dinner?”
“Oh. Sorry, dear. I just dropped the phonebook.”
On the other hand, he might just cower under the dinner table when he sees a plate of spaghetti.
Bonus Question!
Best bomb? Sex.