Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Leftovers.

The other day,
I made this chicken & rice dish
for dinner,
something I'd made before
and remembered liking.

But it turned out mediocre this time.

So now I've got
two full tupperwares
of Leftovers
staring me in the face
when I open the fridge.

I want to gag
every time I think about
having to eat them.

What's worse,
they've taken on
human characteristics.

The Leftovers have become
that guy that wants to go out with you
who won't leave you alone.

I try not to look in that corner
when I open the fridge.

I know if the Leftovers see me,
they'll say,
"Rachel,
we want to have lunch with you this week.
When are you free?"

I keep making up excuses.

"Sorry, Leftovers,
my boss is taking me out for lunch today!
Maybe tomorrow."

I've stood up the Leftovers a few times,
leaving them confused in the break room fridge
while I snack on Reese's cups
all day at work.

"Sorry, Leftovers,
I wasn't hungry for lunch today!
Tomorrow for sure."

Worst of all,
I've avoided the Leftovers
to spend time with
Soft Pretzel,
someone I actually like.

"Whoops,
I'm running late.
I need a portable dinner.
Sorry, Leftovers,
it looks like a Soft Pretzel tonight."

This needs to end.
I think I'll ask the Leftovers
to meet me by the trashcan
so we can talk about our relationship.

I'll let you know how it goes.

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