FAVORITE FORK [I want to tell you about my favorite fork.]

Normally I like to keep personal matters really close to the vest – especially on this here forum where there could potentially be upwards of lots and lots of people to dissect every nuance of every word that is posted, Well chickens (which – believe me – is said in the most complementary of ways – go to W.C. Fields and his whole “My little Chick-a-dees” as your jumping off point – I sure did . . .) today is going to be a slight change as I am going to have to expose my true feelings and (verbally) run down the street with my emotions pinned right there on my sleeve for everyone to see.

Today, I laid my burrito on it’s plate and reached into the bag (from whence it came). And there it was . . . seriously – I had no idea what joy was really in store for me – and then I grabbed the best utensil ever. It wasn’t just some dumb plastic fork that you would throw away the first chance that you got. No – it was special.

I’ll be honest – I didn’t even notice the abnormality that made this fork slightly different from (really) any other fork that I had forked with in the past – and I probably wouldn’t have – right up until I tried to use the fork. It was utterly useless! But useless in a kind of way that a tray of doughnuts would be if they were sitting on a table in front of someone desperately trying to start a diet would be . . . Which (I think) means that I (obviously) had to try to use that fork – and probably also – you also know that those doughnuts are going to get eaten and eaten and eaten some more . . .

How was it “useless” you are asking?! Well although it was fashioned (probably by one of those traditional “fork masters” from over in the deep dark forests of Europa) using the best in clear sturdy plastics (none of that dinky bendy plastic around my way if you please) . . . At some point in the design process – someone decided that it would be best if this particular fork had it’s most “forky” parts neutered down to nubs. The tines were large and rounded in such a way that I wasn’t even able to stab into a (mushy) pinto bean. It was almost like trying to use a hotdog as a fork (except for the whole “clear plastic” thing, the handle part and also the fact that a hot dog isn’t really that much like a fork at all) . . .

Instead of continuing the farce – which would have only succeeded in pushing the fork further into spiral of depression – that it may never have recovered from. I decided to clean the fork off, befriend it and save it for an occasion where it’s “forky” heritage would really (really) be able to shine (brightly) through the fog of it’s unsure past.

Oh – and by the way – the doughnuts were super-scrumptious . . . and the diet will just have to start tomorrow . . .

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