Life has its twists and turns and can be confusing. Navigating this sometimes bumpy road can provide us with food for thought.

 

We seek clarity. Such may be found in . . .

 

 

Mia Pasta

 

The Tuesday night meeting of the Pasta City Council opened with flair.

Seven members assembled, sat with pride, and received recognition from those there.

 

Mayor Andrew Fettuccine, tall and smooth, at times could be quite a meany.

He called the meeting to order and frowned and glared at Harry Linguine.

 

Mr. Linguine, long, thin, and flat-chested, bowed to his honor with a weird grin.

What he’d done that afternoon in a pool of hot water might be considered a sin.

 

Maria Ziti, had been there and was invited to join him, but rejected his invite,

They had been romantically involved at one point, but she broke it off, believing it wasn’t right.

 

With a smile on her face, Penne Rigatoni, a child from a mixed marriage, yelled, “Let’s get this meeting started.”

Marco Vermicelli, holding his flat belly, announced his presence, spun around, and farted.

 

Mayor Fettuccine banged the gavel as loud as he could to get the attention of his crew, but this didn’t sit well with Carlo Macaroni.

He looked at the Mr. Mayor in way that made him shake, and shouted, “You’re nothing but a phony.”

 

Things seemed to be getting out of control when a somewhat screwed up guy made his presence known.

Antonio Fusilli, Vice Mayor, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

 

“Yes, please send her in. We’re ready to hear her request to fulfill her wish.”

Hearing this, the council members looked in awe, as entering the meeting was a beautiful dish.

 

On this hot summer day, she was baked to perfection, an utter delight.

Mia Spaghetti, wiggled in a way that made all believe granting her wish was right.

 

 

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