Tastefully Mesh

We were sitting at the border waiting for the inspectors to check our luggage. I was wearing a lime green seer-sucker suit with a bear skin ascot. My wife was dressed tastefully in a mesh jumpsuit. The inspector waved us through and we sat down at our gate. I was getting pretty fukin hungry. We had been cake testing all day and the sugar had congealed into a stewing slop in my lower intestines. I asked my wife if she wanted anything. She said just an ice tea so I went looking for somewhere to grab something to-go.
I was walking into the food court when it caught my eye. It was in some sort of exhibition. There were a bunch of them but this one really stood out. I walked over to it and stared. It was made in 1947 by a club-foot wino. He had hand-crafted it out of particles while he was waiting for junk.
One of the security guards walked up next to me. “Its a fukin beauty huh?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Its the prize of the collection. Everybody comes up and stares.”
“I’ve never seen one like that.”
“Supposedly it was a pretty popular thing to do among the cheap wine and heroin addicts back then.”
“And you thought they were just a bunch of lazy dudes getting drunk and high.”
“Yeah theres some serious craftsmanship that goes into compressing them that tightly and a lot of heat too,” he said.
“Cool. What do you eat here when you eat here?”
“Shit. Stay away from the corn-based woodchuck sizzle.”
“Anything here that would settle my stomach?” I said.
“Probably not. You’d have to go over to concourse C for that. There’s a health and beauty store that has all sorts of shit.” And then the skid-blast shot out my cornhole and set off an alarm. The security guard got swept down the hall in my fart slick. He stood up and tried to run but he just slipped back down and started snacking on corn. I grabbed the piece and ran off into the parking lot. Nobody followed.

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