I have been closely monitoring my spice rack. Real men do have spice racks.
I am convinced my spices are secretly mingling at night while I sleep, attempting to create a new, dangerous spice designed to rob me of my cognitive processes. Real men have those too.
I think this has already begun. I sense tumeric is the ring leader.
When I tried to explain this to a fellow writer, he rolled his eyes and looked out the window. A woman came over to our table, hearing my rant, and said she believed me. She was sure her baby stroller was rejecting her child. She also believed recently departed Don Rickles was trapped in the Cloud. I ranted that Al Gore created the Dark Web. She said her plumber had switched the hot and cold valves so she would burn her hands.
We exchanged phone numbers. Our first date is this Saturday. By this time my writer friend had switched tables.
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