The Carolina


I asked the man at the register
what the most popular dish at the restaurant is.

He said, "That sir, would be THE CAROLINA."
I said, "Well then, my good man, serve me up The Carolina."

Now I'm sitting here looking at "The Carolina"
and I can't figure out what it is I'm staring at.
Is it a sandwich? A casserole?
The Carolina is, for all intents and purposes,
a disgusting mind puzzle.

It looks like a broken piñata that's been
left out in the rain to die.
But what was the piñata filled with?
Macaroni? Pork? Shellfish?
The Carolina is supposed to be a signature dish,
but it is apparent that this "signature" was signed by a
swamp monster with no opposable thumbs.

Nothing about The Carolina makes sense.
It's like a dog in a tree.
It's a wedding in a grocery store.
It's junk mail.

The Carolina is a dead squirel wearing a party hat.

It's a horse in a hand basket.
It's a mushy pickle in a sock.

My friends, it is my professional advice
that you avoid The Carolina at all costs.
That means if someone has to die so that you
can avoid The Carolina, so be it.
It's worth it.

The Carolina will just make your day soggy and weird
and your sack of regrets
a few pounds heavier.