Tuesday, August 24



Man: Boy, my elbow sure itches. And the back of my neck. And I don't know why.
Meat: You could put some salve on it. Is it a rash?
Man: No... doesn't seem like it.
Meat: Maybe it's psychosomatic? Are you nervous or overly anxious about anything?
Man: Not really. No. I'm doing all right.
Meat: Then buddy, I don't know what to tell you.

At this point the man starts scratching his elbow and the back of his neck so much that he passes out. The meat leans over and wonders aloud if he should call an ambulance.

Man: No, I'm okay. Just a little passing out from frantic scratching. I'm okay. Sure.

The meat looks skeptical.

Man: I got a job.
Meat: Doing what?
Man: Proofreading Bibles.
Meat: Like for a Bible publishing company?
Man: No, I break into people's houses and make sure their Bibles are all spelled correctly and no blasphemy accidentally got in there. When I find a mistake, I simply circle it with a red pen and burn the house down with gasoline.
Meat: How is that a job?
Man: Well, it's only part time, like twenty hours a week. But part time still counts as a job.
Meat: But how does that count as a job? Who pays you?
Man: No one pays me, silly giant talking meat. I steal valuables from the houses I break into.
Meat: Oh.

The meat starts crying a little.

Man: What's wrong?
Meat: Nothing. Just the sad inevitability of life, that's all.
Man: Hey, don't worry about it. There's lots of happy things to think about. Like hugs. And bubble wrap. And one-eyed kittens found in garbage cans behind restaurants.
Meat: I guess...

The man steps forwards and hugs the meat real tight. They hold each other for a very long time, just being with each other in a friendly, comforting way.

The End.

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