BugsI saw you standing across the cafeteria, all prettied up in your onesy jumpsuit, oily hair slicked back in a delicious pony tail, grinning like you just peed yourself and you just don’t give a damn. If you like mayo, you would love what then happened in my pants as I saw you graze through the “Dress Your Baked Potato” line.

Never had I seen so much goddammed chives on one plate! You were different than the others. I’ve been around the block a couple of times, and it takes a lot for me to get my hot dish hot anymore, but you had some tricks up your sleeve when you made your third appearance at the “Dress Your Ice Cream Sundae” table.

I hid under my table, watching, waiting for the boiling point, for something to happen, for you to make your move. I know confidence is attractive, which throws me in the same salad bar container as deviled eggs. I want you babe, and you’ll just have to recognize that in the midst of my peeping at you like Uncle Tom. Look around and down about 30 degrees. True love awaits like a crisped ham and cheddar hot pocket in the microwave.

Wait! What’s this? Your eyes trace over my quivering hamhocks and lilliputian skull to rest uneasily on my man beef, squeezed like caramel cream into my size 58 waist polyester track suit. I saw how carnal knowledge flashed behind your wandering eyes, one of which is wandering. I saw your nose whistle with delight through your deviated septum and our septic tank sized breasts heaved with girlish, churlish, and wild awakening.

Like a coffee enema, I had found my way into your heart, or had I?

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