I relished being hungry for leftover Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub

I relished being hungry for leftover Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub (a poetic partial fiction blended, diced, fricaseed, marinated, mixed, pureed, sautéed, stewed... with fact) Hmm... on second thought lemme join anorexic club until rib cage protrudes taut and visible doubling as drum to drub synchronized within heart of darkness, especially when electrocardiogram exhibits absolute zero vital sign, cardiac arrest translates as cessation to lub dub, hence yours truly declared dead as doornail, coroner report deems arrhythmia directly linkedin to deliberate Machiavellian flub courtesy the missus attempt to poison me actually aborted cuz nanobots loosed upon body gripped with rigor mortis, a minor inconvenient truth with earthling in the balance cuz odorless and tasteless deadly toxins rendered me convalescing from bout with death, an oxymoronic former slenderman gourmand. Temporarily deceased until said microscopic robots avidly analogous to frenzied figuratively hogtied pigs buzzfeeding at a trough creating porcine hubbub invisible nanoids (0.1-10 micrometres) accomplished programmed task, whereby fatal microbes they did scrub away leaving me fit as a fiddle. No matter she thoroughly, painstakingly and lovingly didst strew haphazardly she threw leftovers together, this blustery march like November twenty fourth figuratively view wing the remaining thirty plus days of two thousand twenty three thoroughly cooked in microwave until... poor excuse for my meal appeared with consistency of shoe leather. Think the missus not afraid of Virginia Woolf keen to experiment treating me like the Gingerbread Hag would: questionable resultant glop pantomimed for my guessing pleasure, never figure out in bajillion years as amateurish Marcel Marceau charade performance courtesy the spouse, an entrée she gave - yours truly immediately sought to evade me subsequently evincing horrific puckered mealy mouth as though I swallowed hand grenade figurative exploding oral cavity feeble futile gesticulation inveighed. Thus, methinks himself wise to don cooking apron please do not ask why trumpeting self as master chef boyardee so move over wife and allow husband to try his hand (using skill - let) me prepare Thai and/or other Asian cuisine dish, cuz when free to potschke (To fuss or "mess around" inefficiently and inexpertly), I haint shy to blend (indiscriminately) ingredients ofttimes yours truly barley able to ply boiling water since significant other does not give opportunity to this garden variety and generic, gimlet eyed gourmandizing guilt free Earth friendly gumption generic goaded guy. Every so often yours truly gets so hungry, he could eat a horse (yours truly jest kidding hoof course) truth be told, I only eat one meal per day all day from sunup to sundown, me a force tubby reckoned with, who if he gives way to vice event chew wooly experiences remorse. Hum glad to share mine reasonably rhyming hook line and sink cup hated twenty six letters linkedin amidst various combinations, formations, permutations,... allows, enables, and provides a look into the mindscape of Matthew Scott Harris doth show himself with steely dangling nonsense with sense and sensibility he forsook.