Abundance ain’t about believing you’ll always have enough, but about knowing it beyond any doubt in your entire four layer bodysuit. Don’t matter whether you are flat broke, or loaded like a pistol, one saturday afternoon you are going to think you reached the end of your groceries….

So what to do? Well, you take that stone off your heart, throw it into the trash, and start from scratch….. Staple foods usually cling to closets, so a sack of potatoes is often hiding behind the vacuum cleaner. I pulled out three, two of which had been unsealed already, and thus needed speedy consumption. Potted greens last even longer, so that one pot of peas wasn’t hard to find. Now I needed some dressing, although I’d rather sell it. 

Peeling their clothes off, I sliced the heads into disc shaped IFO’s. They all crashlanded in the cooking area, where clear water was waiting to soften their descent. Peas became quite excited with the fiery attention of the stove. She was bubbling her green brothers into a nice and warm feeling, because of the anticipation of meeting their twins, the potatoes. But those needed some more roasting on the fire, because they had a bit of a tanning problem. I thought about adding some suntan, but decided against it and for the NC twins at the very last moment. Nutmeg had plenty but wouldn’t give, while her sweet sister with the Cinnamon taste enhancer gave her all and landed spent on the kitchen top.

Because the coffee I took with me to my private chambers had gone cold and bitter from envy about my spending time with the twins, I had no option but to swallow her whole, and descend in order to pick up the last of my addictions, and give Touchy a chance to do the sisters as well:

No windows in site, but my needed dressing too, in moore ways than one. So I twirled the main components in a deep dish, usually utilized for italian grain products, or large appetites. Topped it off with some salad dressing, and set to work on her…..

Having eaten most of her pretty face, I kinda unbalanced things, so the remainder of the potatoes needed additional TLC, as did my tastebuds. I contemplated calling in McDonalds army, to grease things up with their stars and stripes, but hated the idea of trashing my food because the Fast Force had had their way with her. Instead, I juiced it up a bit with an oriental partner, who was as sweet and sour as Cinnamon and Nutmeg. That turned out to be too much even for me: halfway through the last course, I had to cave in, and let the dogs take her out for a meal.

Food for thought is better than Sex, once you know how to prepare…

Love U All, with or without spoons

Dre’