At Least It Was Just Lasagna Holes

Oh you know what it’s like after you come home from a long busy day of serious adulting (such activities include pretending to type important things while doing your utmost to avoid being sucked in by the likes of Imgur, making stuff up at meetings while clueless underlings nod along and so much paperwork). All you want to do is indulge in a little mindless television with several pints of ice cream before collapsing into a sudsy tub of bubbles or possibly just bed. Not that we’re generalising or assuming that everyone out there is just like me.

But what you find at the end of your arduous commute demands a little attention before you can progress to your regular evening relaxation (that bottle of booze is going to have to remain forlornly unopened for the time being). Your house, flat or general abode is all of a sudden littered with strange holes that definitely weren’t there thing morning. These are very odd structural phenomena that seem to give off a rather unexpected smell. Possibly tomato based? With a whiff of something cheesy?

Let’s take you out of your misery. In your mildly frazzled state it may well take you altogether too long to puzzle out the misery as to what occurred in your absence. It was plain and simply the most epic food fight ever. Sure, one side emerged victorious mainly down to the fact that they were rather tooled up compared to their competitors. But since when have we been minded to penalise prior preparation?

Think about all the terrible things that might have happened. An earthquake or flood or alien laser beam reducing the whole place to nothing more than a pile of ashy rubble (or possibly rubbery ash). Count your blessing that it just a few youngsters in high spirits launching jet propelled Italian dishes through your windows.

Song choices courtesy of: The 88, Snow Patrol, Weird Al Yankovic and Passenger


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