Rude Pasta

Ned closed the refrigerator late that night.

“Think he’s done?” Mayo said inside.

“Hope so,” Bologna said. “Only three of us left.”

“He’ll still eat boxes before me,” Yogurt cracked.

“Wait.” Bologna said. “A date one day - she’ll gobble you like yesterday’s pizza.”

“This is the most idiotic fridge ever,” Pasta blurted. “A racist salad dressing, entrails masquerading as lunch meat, and a pasty ‘dessert’ that’s still alive. Boil me now.”

“I can’t help my color,” Mayo protested.

“You can help you’re stupid,” Pasta retorted.

“Somebody’s packaging’s tight,” Bologna quipped.

“Kiss my grits,” Pasta snapped.

“Just try,” Grits snarled.