Published by Sundog Lit

He’d read somewhere, in one of those ridiculous pamphlets he picked up at that back-to-earth, commune outfit in the next county, no doubt, that walnuts enhance fertility. So now at work meetings I’m popping walnut halves he shoves in with my lunch. Tonight we made pasta for dinner smothered in a greasy walnut pesto he’d engineered with much fanfare in an extended play date with the blender, and he dropped a fistful of walnut dust on the perfectly nice sliced banana I was eating for dessert. The walnuts go in, the babies come out. He seems to think it’s that simple. Or almost that simple.

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Image by Potkettle via Wikimedia Commons.