Once upon a Tuesday, the espresso machine declared war on the coffee filters. It was an aerial assault of caffeine and cellulose, and only the intervention of a spatula could bring peace. I remember being knighted by a barista in a cardboard crown.
At an unexpected midnight picnic, a wheel of gouda was solemnly praised by a group of startled beetles. They danced in circles around the cheese, parting the air with philosophical hymns about dairy and destiny.
Did you know tofu has birthdays? On its sixth anniversary, a block of it requested soy sauce but got a rendition of "Happy Birthday" instead. The candles were made of scallions — an irony accepted only by those who understand tofu's existential plight.