Crock pot turned on

seitan stew simmering away

I realize I’m a few episodes shy

of finishing Bojack Horseman

the sinister cackle of a ringing phone

shatters my peace.

I hesitate as I recognize the caller

and know the purpose

invitation to Goldberg shindig no less

but I’m looking in the fridge

at a few cans of beer

and a pepperoni stick

Do I really need to venture out?

Do I really need to impress women

that have no interest in me?

Do I really need to drink

to the point of vomiting?

I can forego my own vomit

and revel in the human

of a cartoon horse destroying his liver

It seems like a good deal to me

Seems like the TV might win again

and I’ll become a cliché

Binge watching Bojack Horseman

with Seitan stew and

a couple cans of brew

I’ll miss out on all the noise

but I’ll get a good night sleep

spare my liver another day


Published by fuchebuyahoocom

poet, philosopher and comic. Philadelphia born but suburban bred.

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