Dinty No More

I’ve been eating lunch at the office lately – you know, sandwiches, canned soup, leftovers and shit like that; trying to save some money for retirement.  But after today, I’m rethinking the whole thing, and considering that living at my kid’s house might not be so bad. After all, it’s only fair, since I’ve carried their weight all these years.

Anyway, it’s Thursday, and I only have $17 bucks left, so I scrounged in the bottom of my file cabinet where I keep all the canned goods I was previously not brave enough to try, and out came this can of Dinty Moore Scalloped Potatoes and Ham. I mostly like scalloped potatoes, except for the ones my mother-in-law makes, and the picture on the can looked appetizing so what the hell.

Forty-seven seconds into the microwave cycle, I noticed a strange odor. Something was seriously amiss. All of my coworkers were looking funny at me, like what the fuck is this guy making? But I ignored them, studying the HR notices on the wall like I really care and acting as if I didn’t smell anything bad at all.

The microwave dinged, I wrapped my steaming bowl of potatoes in a paper towel and walked quickly back to my office. I closed the door behind me, lifted the lid of the Dinty Moore, and asked myself what the hell?

When I was a kid, I got the coolest birthday gift ever. It was a piece of plastic vomit, with which I terrified my sisters and nearly caused my brother’s bedspread to be thrown in the trash. The Dinty Moore Scalloped Potatoes and Ham looked exactly like that vomit. And I admit now forty years later that I tasted that rubber vomit, and it tasted much better than this, even after I added salt and pepper.

My office now smells like shit, I’ve alienated my coworkers, and I’m hungry. I’m going to Subway. Screw the retirement.