Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Working on my laptop while my soft posterior slowly numbed—
While I laboured, stomach churning,
for after-dinner snacks a-yearning,
Surely such my labours earning?
I thought to check the frigidaire.
"I deserve it," this I muttered, searching through the frigidaire—
That's why there are no more plums.
- he/him
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