He was served his meal, as they used to do, and he ate every single bight of the medoicre fair before he touched his small side of ice cream. He was a good, Midwestern boy that was raised right, so through the protein and the veggies, and the roll he went. He finally cleaned his plate and dipped his spoon into that beautiful blot of ice cream...only to discover it was butter.
I saved my dark chocolate pretzel for the very last; I have to say I got the better end of that deal.
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