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

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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