A wonderful, terrible thing. The thing I have discovered is toffee-coated cashews. I have lived umpity-ump* years without any knowledge of toffee-coated cashews, and now those many years seem pinched and pointless, even the year that I first encountered Vietnamese food and internet porn (bánh xeo, and badpuppy.com, respectively.)

So goodbye, longevity. Goodbye, ability to stand without use of a pulley and a stout rope or chain. Goodbye, feet and genitals, I won’t be seeing you much longer. Goodbye, need for human contact and the ability to listen to people talk about anything other than bringing me toffee-coated cashews. Goodbye, outdoors. Goodbye, dignity, and the ability to cross my legs or even entertain the notion of peeing standing up. Goodbye, 401k, you will now be supporting instacart.com, WHO WILL DELIVER TOFFEE-COATED CASHEWS RIGHT TO MY FRONT DOOR AND LEAVE THEM ON THE TABLE ON THE FRONT PORCH BELOW THE MAILBOX, as long as I spend at least $65 at a time. Goodbye, hygiene, since time spent in pursuits other than procuring or eating toffee-coated cashews seems pretty meaningless and frivolous now.

When I die, just pack my orifices with toffee-coated cashews, ignite my pyre, and I will sputter and smolder for years because I will be a sweet, slightly salty 700lb mound of lard and rubbery bones.

*My Aunt Martha used to say this, and say “umpteen” instead of any unknown number, in a horrible Green Bay, WI accent. As in, “I’ve tolt you kidss umpteen times to put dem socks in dem shoes and don’t scatter ‘em arount this pleece like a pig stuy.”


ETA: Never mind, I ate too many toffee-coated cashews and now I’m queasy and don’t ever want to see them again. Please don’t mention toffee-coated anything for a while, because I might hurl roaringly for an astonishingly long time.