And it is done. You like all healthy food. And you know what? They've grown rather fond of you too. You spend every day together. The fruits, the veggies, you make time for 'em all. You've never had better friends in all your life. Then one night you're out at a restaurant and you meet a nice salad. She's lightly dressed, and you can't keep from noticing her ripe round *ahem* tomatoes. You two decide to settle down together, make it official. Then one evening, it happens. She walks in from work to find you nibbling on the leaves of Caesar, the "friend" you met at grocery store last month. You try to deny it, say it's not how it looks, but she can tell you're lying. The evidence has been there all along, how you come home late nights with bits of cucumber in your teeth, the blotches of Thousand Island she's found on your collar. She tells you it's over and tosses you out. You're left forever plagued by rejection. Word gets around the bars of what you did, and even the croutons won't give you a second glance. In your downward spiral you've lowered your standards so far that you pick up a bag of potato chips, and, well, you never can turn back again.
It should be noted that it's 2 AM over here, and I haven't slept much in the past couple of days, so when I ask the little voice in my head if a seductive story about a salad is a bit silly, he just kind of shrugs and says "eh, go for it."
That being said, I wish I could sleep as long as I want and wake up without any actual time having passed
"Talk to the paw, mister, 'cos the whiskers don't want to know!!"