Pot Luck

It always ended the same in spite of promising himself he’d only take small portions of a few of the hot dishes. He started with a little lettuce from M. Lucy’s garden, a hydroponic setup in her basement so she had fresh veggies all year round. Besides, it took up some of the space on the plate so he couldn’t over fill it. Next up came the casseroles. Surely he could skip anything that looked slimy with mushrooms, so skip the green bean and cream of something. Also skip that open container from the local fast food restaurant; he could eat that any time. So, a bit from M. Thompson’s mac-n-cheese, a scoop from M. Mendez’s shepherd’s pie. And what’s this? Oh, wonderful! M. Carpenter made that delicious thing with bacon and who cares what else. That goes on the plate, which is now almost full. How did that happen? Bread rolls, skip those, but a croissant might be nice to sop up the plate with. The deserts, now that would be a challenge. Of course, with a full plate, maybe he could do without. But who in their right might would skip M. Fischer’s lemon bars? Where to put it? Oh, how about on top of the croissant? Perfect. And a brownie would do nicely on top of the lettuce. And a couple snickerdoodles would fit nicely on the brownie. He took his carefully balanced plate over to one of the cafeteria-style long bench tables. There before him sat a veritable mountain of protein, carbohydrates, fats, and sugars. He was going to regret this in the morning.

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