Bon Appétit

Please don’t be late for dinner tonight as I am doing a special recipe.

I have cooked up the last of supplies and have laid out the table. The silver from the cupboard sparkles on the checkered tablecloth. The fireplace is lit with the firewood of our picture album and keeps our house of cards warm.

I took extra care to roast and smoke the ribs of my words over a slow flame, for hours this morning. I glazed them with fresh honey that I extracted from the stinging bees of your lies. I plan to serve these with a mild, stirred broth of your ground indifference and baked ego beans.

The spice of your prevarications have been stewed in the buttery slime of your compliments and I will pour it over the stir fried facts I hunted on my own, seasoned with a hint of sarcastic fresh garlic.

There are sides of green, pulverized dreams and golden corny memories and I plan to serve freshly baked, quarter pound bread of our recent altercations with it.

Let me know if you’d prefer a dollop of the cold and creamy goodbye or a hot and gooey pie of mush with cinnamon tears sprinkled on it for the final course.

I don’t expect a thank you note for the meal I offer, but please don’t forget picking your coat and umbrella from the rack by the door, when you leave.

I am sure you will find the meal fulfilling and won’t need an excuse to make another trip to a refrigerator in someone else’s kitchen to grab a bite after tonight.

Bon Appétit !!