Not Your Typical Monday Dinner

Over the mashed potatoes,
And piles of gravy,
And the center piece,
One very crispy (not to mention black) hunk of hamburger.

Meatloaf?

Whatever. No, maybe if he'd a called it 'meatloaf' she wouldn't have snapped.
See, this was the best of 6 failled attemps of making 'meatloaf'.
He was tired and hungry; coming home from work.
She was sick of seeing that crused dead cow and wanted to kill it again.

"Whats for supper?" he said after a kiss.
One vein in her neck wiggled a bit... "That meatloaf."
"That?" he spat back, "Why thats no more then a cremated cow!"
She picked up the knife and poked it harshly.

"Now, I know it looks a little... well done. Inside it's pink and tasty."
Doubting this, she crossed her fingers and knocked the counter; made of wood,
As the knife poked into the beast,
It somehow seemed to 'pop' and deflate, as did a nerve in her head.

"Thats what you're feeding me? That hunk of cremated cow? Burnt beef? Ha ha..."
That was it...Tick...Tick...Pop. There it was.
"I'll spread it's ashes with yours!" She yelled as she stabbed him,
Somehwhat in the same matter as she had done to the crispy black meatloaf.

She looked down at her boyfriend, bloody and rare,
And then at the meatloaf; it's ashes spread over his body;
For it had falled off of the table,
As she fell off of her rocker.

So, now in jail,
When supper rolls around,
I make sure that I'm not working lunch duty,
When they're making meatloaf...Ugh.