Food Insecure.

I've been food insecure all my life.

But it didn't get really bad

until last March.

That's when my magic breadbox 

stopped working.

Up until then

all I had to do was

wish for a meal or

food item and it would magically

appear in front of me.

Kinda like those replicator

thingies in Start Trek.

Except mine was magic;

it was given to me by a 

troupe of elves

on their way to a Yankees

baseball game long ago.

After the calamity 

I felt so food insecure

that I regressed into the 

state of an amoeba.

I mean literally -- 

I became a one-celled organism.

Somehow I managed to land

on a head of iceberg lettuce

in a school cafeteria,

and a heroic lunch lady,

exclaiming "What in the world

is this piece of yuck doing on 

the sandwich lettuce -- don't

they wash this stuff no more?" 

gently removed me with a paper

towel and set me in a petri

dish.

Where I prospered so well

that I turned back into a human

being.

And I married that lunch lady.

Her name is Ruthie.

She makes me spaghetti 

with Hormel chili whenever I want.