Anyway, I tried my brownie with a Dove bar stuck in it. It was heavenly. There might be a universal truth in there. Even wonderful things to eat can be made more wonderful by sticking a Dove bar in it.
Anyway, as I ate, licking my lips and moaning, I thought about how good things taste after they’ve been cooked in an oven. Bakin’ that’s called. It occurred that the reason bakin’ products taste so good is because it sounds like bacon. Since, I was getting such good thinking going, I also wondered if maybe Dove bars might be brain stimulation food, like that kinky balboa stuff or whatever it’s called. I proposed the brain stimulation powers of Dove bars to the Squeeze.
She grabbed me by the arm and drug me to the bedroom, closed the door, by which time I had totally stopped thinking. But she parked me in profile in front of the full-length mirror. “There’s one thing Dove bars stimulate. Look,” she said. Well, my eyes, as I’ve mentioned before, have been trained for decades to be very selective in what they look at in mirrors. But, She, being the Boss of Everything, well, She said look, and the eyes looked.
Whoa. There was this … bulge I guess I’ll call it above where my belly button is. I didn’t know it was there. My pants size hasn’t changed. My waist has been thirty something since high school.
She recounted, quite forcefully, the history of my waist size.
“Wait. Are you saying I’ve gotten fat?” I asked her.
“If the shoe fits, dot, dot, dot,” she said.
“I haven’t gotten fat,” I replied confidently. “I’ve aged. Slightly. But gracefully.”
“We’re having leftovers for dinner,” she said.
“The chicken and beef from my birthday dinner?”
“Yes. The cock and bull.”
That woman. She always manages to get the last word in.