Buttered bread, breaded butter, buttered butts
Razed to the ground on February 22, 2026.
My bread was buttered on the wrong side. I scraped the butter off and put it on the right side. I blamed Becasue for the mis-buttering and threatened to butter her butt over it. (My butt was buttered on the right side. I had Becasue to thank for that.) Her initially quizzical stare gave way to tittering as she realized this was just my way to get her bare butt in bed again. It worked. We went upstairs.
It was a genuine butt-buttering, all right!
“Buttered bread? Or breaded butter?” I asked my huzzey-muffet when all the sweating and grunting was over. She didn’t answer. I went downstairs and breaded all butter sticks with breadcrumbs. The breadcrumbs were awful buttery to begin with, too.
Why is the opposite of “hire” “fire”? Why isn’t it “lower”? Or why not “set on fire”?
Butter breaded, I went for a stroll. Several of my body parts were not doing anything useful right then, so I dropped them by the wayside as I continued onward. Last time, I had carefully removed them and placed them in my fridge for safekeeping. When I returned, I found my left leg right where I left it—in the refrigerator next to that severed head I put there on Tuesday. But the severed head had started gnawing on my leg! So, this time I decided simply abandoning my superfluous body parts on the sidewalk made more sense.
But in the grand scheme of things, does anything make sense?