"Conversation With Cottage Cheese"
by Paul Perez
Right now the hour is a bit late.
Before heading to bed, I think
I need a quick snack.
Shuffling, sluggishly accross the room
My magical, white tower is just beyond
A stargate to the tile universe.
An unspeaking Lord calls to me.
"Make a sandwhich,
For you stomach be hungry."
Who am I to question divine providence?
Alabaster light pours from between metal and rubber,
And I know I've discovered my calling in life
When suddenly, a voice called unto me.
"Speak with me, child.
I get lonely, and the other produce do not like me.
They prefer milk to my curdled form.
Alas, life as an old timer has me worn."
The cottage cheese, glassed glaze over his eyes,
Was in need of nothing more than simple conversation.
Tucked nearly alone, sort of to the middle on the second row,
He was surrounded by leftover stroganoff
(that only spoke russian)
And something beige in color, with green hair.
All my popular food,
Cheese, tomatoes, mayo, mustard, beer,
Congregated on shelf 1.
Of course, Milk was the center of attention.
Being as large as he is, Milk was often looked up to,
and Revered as a god.
After the shock of being discovered faded,
mild food related banter resumed.
Where they came from,
How crappy Wal Mart tends to be to it's produce,
the list could really go on.
"My freind, Cottage Cheese, why is it they don't respect you?
You are in fact their elder, are you not? "
"If humans came in other types,
One of which being based on human decay,
Would you revere them?
Besides, who eats cottage cheese anyway?"
To myself, a thought appeared.
I've never considered to eat cottage cheese.
"You aren't all that bad, Cottage Cheese.
Plenty of people out there love you
Just the way you are."
"Is that why I've remained untouched
And I expire tomorrow? You didnt,
Even really want me. I was a
Old age caught up to him. Shortening,
Breath and a short yawn followed.
"True, you were an accident.
But I still love you for who you are."
"Stop patronizing me. You hate me.
Just tell me. I'm old. I'm tired.
And I don't really taste good.
Can you think of a time to eat
Cottage Fucking cheese?"
I really can't argue with the simple truth.
However, I do feel bad about it at this point.
He's rather lonely.
Being the good natured guy I am,
I ate Cottage Cheese.
Not bad, actually.
His name is Paul, though freinds call him either Short Bus or Driftwood. He is a former college student looking to go back, because the blue collar pseudo-slave labor gig just isn't working for him. He has a deep-seated love for gummy bears and thrash metal, and an odd ability to make weird, often random connections between the things he sees in everyday life.