Eastern meets Middle Eastern meets a very confused Mexican.

The Mexican was a prep for another night, and he was tremendously relieved to know he was no part of the peace talks being commenced tonight.

Ali Baba's chicken was face down in fervent religious humility.  The vegetables were swimming in a decadent bath of curry and coconut milk and really had very little to say, even to one another.  They were communing on a higher level but it came off as aloofness.

 The bread was on vacation from Field to Fork and was sunning itself in the last few rays of a sunny March day.

 The floury cartel.  Amigos, unite!

This post brought you by the letter A, and the prescription sleep aid Ambien.  You're welcome.