This morning, I was thinking about having weed cake for breakfast, but I decided on generic brand Honey Bunches of Oats instead. I’ve never been one for the wake-and-bake, but when the kitchen greets you at 9 am with a sticky chocolate confection sporting a sign that says “eat me if you want to get high,” it seems a little bit like divine intervention, doesn’t it? Never mind that the cake was half eaten, carving knives smeared with frosting laying abandoned by its side. Kitchen hygiene sometimes falls by the wayside when confronted with more urgent matters like mind altering substances.... and by sometimes I mean very often.
Someone wandered in and said “Oh, have you had any of the cake? When I came down it wasn’t labeled, but luckily I knew and didn’t eat any, because I didn’t want to turn into a Jelly Bean. So I made the sign.” I think we might need our own house - FDA officer to enforce labeling laws. Just say no to Jelly Beans.
The cake oozed at me enticingly, but somehow the box of cereal appealed to my latent better judgement. Luckily, no decision is final. I love, you, second hand smoke from the porch.
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