Glum Gum

Life grinds your dreams between its molars until they have lost all flavour then spits them out into a puddle of cold wet grey. As soon as I have found a depressing analogy for the neon tube and the speckled wood spitting a piece of gum onto my desk will seem almost justifiable in retrospect. Is the liquid you see my own saliva? Mystery continues to shroud the answer.

Caterpillar of the Food Pyramid

The table is set for a filling lunch of grilled meat. Salads, bread, mustard... everything is ready. Except for the roast which is still sitting on its chair and has not even been skinned yet! It is arguably a fat piece of meat and might need more than an hour on the grill so we should get some hors d'oeuvres first. I hear the ears taste great fried in olive oil.