He was sad. He couldn't even peal a dam tomato!

Chef Boyardee appeared beside him in a puff of basil-scented smoke. "Need some help, buddy?" the famous chef asked. "Yessiree, Chef Boyardee!" Bo replied. "My girlfriend expects me

to make her a "loaded vealburger beefaroni". What the cosmos does that mean?" Chef Boyardee said, "I went to culinary school, so I have no idea." The beef sizzled as my girlfriend

's flamethrower added a nice "crust" on top of the beef. It smelled so good. Man my girlfriend is so hot. Chef Boyardee had 3rd degree burns on his face and chest, but man,

someone needs to stop swing the flamethrower around our kitchen at dinnertime. I like my baked ziti with meatballs to be nice and crisp on top, but this seems excessive.

A creme brulle might warrant a flamethrower but seriously. One thing I do like around the kitchen is fido. You can always rely on him to clean up after any messes that go down.

Fido will eat anything and he gets on the table to share my breakfast. So does my cat. It is a daily ritual. The cat likes sour cream, yogurt and dry cereal. Both like meat.

My wife wasn't pleased with the arrangement. "There is cat hair in the butter dish and Fido just licked the frosting off my toaster strudel." "They're family. Why not the table?"

suggested the table, who had always felt overlooked. I had never thought of the table as family before, but I could see its point. "Okay," I told it, "but we will expect presents."

The table beamed and might have even blushed but it was hard to tell because of the dark color of the mahogany it was made of. The first present it gave us was a tabla rasa each.