<strong> Vern ~ dinner for two</strong><br/><br/>Vern lived life near the shallow end of the gene pool. It wasn’t that he was shallow or couldn’t swim. It was because it took so long for the outer world to send messages thru to the big body’s sensory system to the spinal cord and travel back to his extremities.<br/><br/>Half the electrons that started any nerve signal on any part of Vern never made the full round trip. Most blinked out of exhaustion. Others were pushed over the edge of his narrow nerve lanes by new signals closer to his spinal cord.<br/><br/>In Vern’s body, distance mattered. His stomach sat right up against Vern’s spinal cord and some people said his ass hole and dick did too. Only an autopsy could confirm the speculation and no one had successfully sent Vern to his final dirt nap. Jury was still out on his dick and asshole.<br/><br/>But his stomach was bitchin as he removed the two and a half slices of pizza from the box and toss them in the micro wave. He open the Parmesan and shook it over the pizza.  One push of the timer and then back to the counter to lay out the bread for sandwiches.  A piece of bread, a wade of wilted lettuce, a fist full of ham slices, a hunk of cheese and another piece of bread.<br/><br/>Vern studied the small temple of food momentarily.  He opened the top and dropped the missing link, four slices of pickle then shot a wad of yellow mustard on top. It looked like a hideous green mountain with bright yellow snow covering the first two layers. He buried it under the stiff slice of bread as the timer on the microwave went ding.<br/><br/>He reached into the micro wave. The gooey pizza gnarled and hissing at Vern as he removed the platter. The hot steam rose when Vern tipped the platter vertical so the slices would slide to the plate. The slices stuck to the platter like they were nailed on it. He gave up.<br/><br/>Instead he grabbed the sandwich and it dropped on the plate without a fight.  Next he slid a can of beer in his thigh pocket. Water bottle in the other and shoved the sack of chips between his teeth. The microwave platter in his other hand as he  made the short walk to the couch.<br/><br/>His hands full of sustenance, he stood menacingly over Evie.<br/><br/>“OOVE  OVER EVEEE!”<br/><br/>Dinner was about to be served.<br/><br/>