The Legend of the Blue Haggis
(Because Siva liked it, and it *is* kind of funny.)
Once upon a time there was a haggis in the back of my refrigerator. I don't know how it got there--it may have been a wedding present (my family is a mite eccentric) or possibly, a Christmas present, a la fruitcake, which is another misunderstood food. And there it sat, a lonely blue haggis (I don't think it was blue when I got it BTW), surrounded by beer and cold pizza and 2% milk--feeling sorry for itself because it didn't feel special. Nobody paid attention to the blue haggis. It was like the blue haggis didn't exist.
But then, one day, it came time for me and the hubbatollah to move to another apartment, and we had to clean out the fridge. We cleaned out the chocolate syrup that would no longer pour. We threw away the Chinese food that we couldn't identify because it no longer smelled like anything we usually ordered. We threw away the baking soda--well, actually, it committed suicide, feeling that it had failed at keeping things nice in there, somehow.
And then we saw it, the blue haggis. We held it up to bask in the harsh light of the fridge.
"Wow," the hubbatollah said--"that's special." (He meant it sarcastically)
But haggis are not book-larned. And it didn't know from sarcasm, or that meat should not be blue. Hubby handed the blue haggis to me, I loaded it in the lead-lined titanium lacrosse stick, and I hurled it into the yard of our neighbors, who I never liked and didn't expect to see again--
And as it flew, if haggis could smile, maybe the blue haggis grinned a little--for there, in the yard, were some nice doggies to play with.