The god of tuna, are you listening?
Is it possible for the spirit of a dead tuna to haunt you?
I have no other explanation for what is happening to me.
It’s not like my life is all that complicated:
- Clean the litter box
- Remove dog pee and piles of poop from the floor
- Then have breakfast, lunch, or dinner
Last night, I made enough tuna casserole to create 16 lunches, which are packaged like this…
…and because I’m the world’s laziest cook, I had the remains for dinner.
The “recipe” is simple:
- 2 boxes Barilla spiral noodles, overcooked.
- 1 can mushroom soup
- 6 cans tuna, drained
- Approximately ¼ box of Velveeta cheese (aka what was left over after the mold was cut off)
- Add 2-something 6 oz bags of extra sharp cheddar to mix (Possibly more. I’m a cheese-a-holic and dumped all the half-used bags of cheese into the mix. There may be some 4 cheese Mexican in there somewhere, possibly pepper jack…definitely Quesadilla…).
- 1 6-oz bag of sharp cheddar cheese to put on top of each lunch before putting the lid on it.
- At least 2 cups milk
- 2 sticks butter
- Salt, pepper, and minced garlic to suit your taste
I have to warn you that I use the term “recipe” loosely. There may be more butter and cheese in it than stated. However, I can guarantee that it contains no Vodka.
Said tuna began to haunt me mere minutes after ingesting it. I was finally able to sleep – around 11:00pm after taking 2 different knock-out pills.
I awoke at Poo am with the scent of doggie “gifts” accosting my nostrils and rancid tuna brewing inside my mouth.
If there is a god of tuna, I beg forgiveness, for I have finned. Please take from me the stench that not even 2 tablespoons of all natural, chunky peanut butter can remove.
I’ll let you know when the taste of peanut butter tuna on Dave’s Good Seed bread stops haunting me.