We cooked portobello burgers, i was vegetarian back then, another thing that didn’t lasted…
We cooked portobellos and all the neighbors commented on the good smell, and your good looks once you weren’t listening.
And then they all commented on my good luck. Luck? It was hell to find you, and hell to keep you.
I had to chase you around like a kid after a basketball, always scared you were going to bounce into the street and then you’ll be lost forever.
I also lied, sorry, I made portobello burgers, it was me, you were watching TV and drinking a beer. I made burgers, and organic lemonade and dark chocolate cake for dessert, it took about 2 hours, it took about 2 years, but i also made a man out of you with love, i had been giving you my life in a dish everyday, with a side of everything i had. And you had been with your feet up the couch, asking me to hurry up.
And as i washed the dishes later, again by myself, while i could hear the playstation on the livingroom, it hit me. I realized you had finished all of them. It was over.
So i put the dishes away, and then i put your clothes and your toothbrush and your fancy shampoo all in a box and i kicked them down the stairs, then you followed.
I made portobello burgers, you made me a fool.
I had to clean both the messes, the kitchen and myself.
And people now wonder why i hate to cook…