I likened it to shopping at the supermarket.

There’s some stuff on the list you NEED to pick up.

A loaf of Bread
A container of milk
A stick of butter

Things you have to have for the pre planned recipes to work out.
Can’t go with out them. They are mainstays. And you get them every time. They are reliable and a staple in the household.


I want to be that ultra special limited edition Chunky Monkey ice cream that only comes out every few years that catches your peripheral view as go by in the refrigerated aisle.

The one with the UNMISTAKEABLE wrapper that you’d be able to discern through any amount of condensation on a glass door.

It calls your name… and you come to a SCREECHING HALT… cart and all.

Your kid’s questions become distant… “Daddy… why didwestop here??…..”

You approach the door with trepidation… could it really be…. is that really it? *looking at your phone* I wasn’t sure it was coming out again for another few years… but here it is… Christmas came early.

And you gently lift the container off the shelf and cup it in both hands while your brain hears choirs of cherubic angels singing.

You can already taste it.    The sweetness.  The texture.  The nuances that make your nipples hard – you wouldn’t admit that to anyone… but it does.

Goose bumps… musical frisson… all that good gyatdamned shit that makes you act like just a TOUCH of Tyrone Biggums.

You can’t wait to get me home…

To savor me.

To devour me.

To spend those moments uninterrupted with me and only me in your thoughts.

In your mouth.

On your tongue.

On your mind…

For how ever long it takes to consume me…

And then wish you had more.

Yeah.   I’d rather be that than bread.


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