A Late Lunch

I was bringing Ms. James her Meals on Wheels
She didn’t come to the door
I went on in and there she was
Lying dead right on the floor
I called the proper authorities
They showed up minutes later
To find me eatin’ her fried chicken
And her mashed potaters

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58 thoughts on “A Late Lunch

  1. Sounds like he complaints I hear. The food is lousy. It doesn’t come on time and the portions are too small. At least it can’t be blamed for killing folks.

  2. I admit I have eaten things I probably wasn’t properly invited to do so!
    πŸ˜€ More yummy when unplanned. . .
    Marissa, this post was from last week! Shoot!
    So sorry, I had grandies out the kazoo! My big gift to my grown children was to watch three grandkids on Friday, then another combo of three on Saturday night. I needed a vacation from my Mother’s Day weekend, dear friend.
    No blogging visits, but ice cream post with Hendrix and girls got pre-scheduled. . .

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