Thursday, August 16, 2001

Figurative quandary.

A luscious piece of pie lay on the counter. And with it’s wicked delectable and magnetic appeal, it emitted rays of “taste me” in all directions. The small tantalizing cherries, smothered in scarlet syrup, all nestled delicately into the velvety crust; made it tremendously difficult to ignore its wiles. My attempts to dissuade my wayward thoughts were failing and become increasingly weak as time endured. With a tilt of my head and a guilt-ridden stare, I gazed over the plate, reexamining the contents. How could I turn away such a young, mouth-watering piece of cherry pie? All it wants is someone to savor its succulent, heavenly mass of pastry and fruit, why not me?

No. The provokingly splendid smell emanating from the warm slice of pie, I admit, was almost tempting enough to convince me to grab a fork. However, I couldn’t let myself open the drawer to grip one. I have not yet relished in such a delightful tartlet this year, which is slightly surprising, but I had good reason for not indulging. I can’t stand the lingering anguish of the love handles it left behind, not to mention the grimy silverware and dishes. But still the cheese remains in the trap.

What would you do?

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