2002-07-25 - 12:59 a.m.

CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE....

blech . . .!

Too much! It'll slide off the toasted, buttered bread I have just taken out of that white plasticky box, I just know it will. And drip off the side like a big blob of goo smothering a small town, running off the brown crust and squishing onto the porcelain plate, spreading until it's mass is nice and thin and EVERYWHERE!

But that's not all... oh no! That little white plasticky thing has other plans... you think , "oh, yeah, one minute, that's not very long, that's not very long at all...." and after you've pushed the damned buttons with their beeps and quarks and buzzes, I swear they were invented by the Devil in his Hellish Boredom... That work of evil comes to life and what does it do to my cheeeeeze??? FRIES IT DOWN TO ITS PRIMITIVE STATE!!

*O*I*L*

That slick, sick, sloppy yellow golden film that saturates my precious bread like a sponge!

LIKE A GODDAMN SPONGE!

And if that isn't riding up my ass like a pike, I take my forsaken sandwich out of the mouth of the beast... this deformed, freakish mess of bubbling ooze surrounding these once two FRESH slices of puffed perfection and degrading it to nothing more than a soggy bitch with stale lining... oil crusted and brittle.

Unedible.... OH, THOSE TORTURING SYLABOLS!

*U*N* - *E*D* - *I* - *B*L*E* *!*

Woe be unto that Plasticky Prick of Perversion! Device of the Damned!

". . . . . . . ."

I think tomorrow I will sell my soul and buy a microwave dinner.

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