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How Late One Night I Was Eating Breakfast with My Girlfriend Susan Carpenter and Fell In Love with another Woman Who Was Just A Kid Well, that's not quite it: I mean I was definitely eating breakfast with Susan, thatís of course true, but the rest isnít necessarily. My scrambled eggs with American cheese were, as usual, damn near awful and I enjoyed them quite a bit. As Susan started talking to me about the freshness of Chinese grape seed kindling, I began to ponder where in the world my pants were. Well, that's not quite it: It was my jock-strap which first indicated I had forgotten my pimple treatment, so I bemusedly gathered my utensils and fished around in Susanís soupy scramble till I came across a lump in her breast. Susan began to cry, and I couldnít help but console her (after all, the heirloom pillows hadnít quite dried from the previous morningís Puke Choke Carnival, as per Susanís Motherís request). Well, that's not quite it: Delicately my pants had drifted themselves to sleep, which was unusual considering the rather green neighbors next door to my house, whose Dachshund, Pebbles, hasnít even seen a pair of pants as loosely knit as these before. Well, that's not quite it: Of course there were limits to my mounting rage at finding the lump in my soupy Susanís breast. After all, I didnít think I had prepared a meat soup, just a chickenís broth at most. But alas, there I was, stuck in the middle of it all, all alone, alone in the sun of a good evening. Thatís when I saw Stephanie. Well, that's not quite it: Thatís when Stephanie saw me. Well, that's not quite it: Thatís when Susan, my love, and myself, upset with the lump I had found in the soup, began to wonder if there had ever been a girl named Stephanie at all, or if the name was the construct of our imaginings, so bogged down in banality that trifles were no longer as sweet, and truffles were beginning to look like problems. Well, that's not quite it: Chocolate or no chocolate, my dear Susan couldnít have found lumps in her soup; the soup just hadnít finished cooking yet! That is to say, and I mean this modestly, Susan may have had the pots and the oven, but the heat remained turned off and the soup can unopened. Well, that's not quite it: Sure my eggs had been scrambled and I, in love with Susan, had gone for a walk with my brotherís Dachshund, but the fact remained that just the opposite was true. Yes, damn well indeed, I was in love with a soup that hadnít been cooked and lumps that had never existed because, after all, Iím no Puke Choke Champion and she was just a kid anyway.
Date Written: December 02, 2005
Author: Luthius Badapple
Average Vote: 3.25