Kale- a dilemma!

 

My wife said the other day that the "Food and Drug Administration is warning people that eating Kale might pose certain health risks because of germs or something.”

"Oh no. I'm so afraid! Kale? Kale is going to end us all! That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard today. If it were true, it wouldn’t bother me. You know I hate it.”

"Okay, tough guys always know better," she said, returning to her computer and listening to music on her iPod.

I needed to run some errands after our conversation about Kale warnings to purchase 13 glowing-in-the-dark condoms, a bag of Fritos, and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. My wife needed a new pair of slippers.  I ruined them last week when I walked our dog in a snowstorm. So, she tagged along.

So, we hopped into my truck and drove off in the wake of the misty rising sun.  For some reason, I had a sinking feeling.  More often than not, that sinking simply turns out to be little more than my pessimistic attitude.

Approaching the town, things didn't seem to sit well. The trees hugging the road appeared wrong. They seemed as if they had given up all hope of life.  Next, all of a sudden, we realized that the birds had stopped chirping their happy, chirpy bird songs.

"In horror stories, when the happy birds stop tweeting, that means there is a monster out there."  My wife wisely invoked.  

Clenching each other, hand in hand,  I continued driving.  My eyes were peeling as if all the onions in the world were getting sliced.

It turned out my girlfriend was right about the Kale thing. Thousands of dead bodies strewn everywhere, locked in death's cruel clothing, leered at us like unbearable sorrow and hateful hatred. The scent of human flesh lilted like autumn leaves, filling our nostrils with their fetid odors.      

Sometimes, the bodies occurred in strange piles, as if lining up at the gas station to play some sanctified version of the lottery. Other bodies were groaning and moaning, wailing as if all the cable television machines turned themselves on at once!  

Amongst this carnage and mayhem, the partial remains: leaves of Kale scattered helter-skelter, half-eaten, as far as the eyes could see.

"Oh God, what a nightmare!" wailed my wife.

It was a ghost town. 

 “If only our federal government friends at the Food and Drug Administration would have stepped in and banned Kale, our hometown would have been saved!" I mused out loud to the empty, ominous sky.

“It’s just a shame,” whispered my wife, shaking her head.

All of a sudden, Trump’s caravan of politics and shit rolled up in their fleet of private jets and buses to take a photography shoot. Trump strode out of his bus, and so did his sycophants who handle official state-approved propaganda.  

Trump said, “What a tremendous job my administration and I have accomplished here!  We have talked, and I think things are going well now. We are making America great again.”  And then they packed up and left for a golfing holiday in San Diego.   

So, because we clearly couldn't purchase 13 glowing-in-the-dark condoms and whatever my wife was after, we got back inside the truck and drove off into the sunset.