Sam Alden
seven jokes about food

I. Yesterday I began to make a sandwich, feeling the entire time as if my jaw was getting tighter. The feeling increased as I toasted the bread and sawed out cross-sections of tomatoes. By the time I had laid the sandwich on a plate beside the glass of pomegranate juice, I found that I could no longer open my mouth.

II. A man dresses himself as a roll of brie to protest the war. The government is taken aback by his costume choice, and decide to declare a temporary ceasefire while the government prepares a response. A week later, the man dressed as a roll of brie has given up his protest to spend all day making love to a secret government agent dressed as a cracker. The war picks up where it left off.

III. Soon after I was born, my father set a check for $140 on the kitchen table and left with the kitchen still dark. For a month and a half after that, I was fed on formula, because my mother's breasts would only drip tears. This is why I am now lactose-intolerant.

IV. An old woman dies and her family decides they would like an open-casket funeral. The small-town coroner strips her and sets her on a metal table. He cuts a long X across her torso, and pulls back her skin in four triangles. To his surprise, he finds in place of a heart a single orange, which he sets on a table. Later, forgetting its origins, he peels and eats it.

V. Years ago, when you were very small, I tried to feed you a spoonful of something vile. "Here comes the okra plane," I said. "Open the hangar." Reluctantly, your tiny mouth opened, and bolted to your tiny teeth I saw waiting rows upon rows of tiny anti-aircraft weaponry.

VI. A man commits a heinous crime. As punishment, God decrees that the man shall never again taste meat. The man, being a vegan, is initially nonplussed by the sentence. Three years later, he buys a ranch, slaughters every steer on the property, and buries himself alive under twenty-four tons of uncooked beef.

VII. You are a teenage girl in love with the neighbor boy. One day, as a sign of affection, you cut off all of your hair and bake it into a pie. The pie is left on the neighbor boy's doorstep. The next day, you find another pie on your own doorstep. Baked into the pie are jeans, a pair of boxers, and a worn green t-shirt. Sure enough, when you walk into his house, the neighbor boy is waiting naked, covered in flour and lightly greased. Together, you climb into the oven.