“They look like butts, mom.”

“No they don’t.”

“Yes, they do. Even Charlene says so,” pointing to his sister who lays in the couch with wet was cloth on her forehead.

She has a fever from the flu. Barely opening her eyes she looks at the bread on the table with a smile on her face.

They are tan and soft. If only some body parts are easy to reconstruct like this. But, hey, butt-looking or not, they taste heavenly good.

Remember the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter ad with the melting “buttery” spread and steaming hot bread served up in heaven?

Can you tell I am feeling good? Good bye flu. And leave my daughter too.


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