Good-bye, Jimmy Dean
Though I hardly knew you at all
You really knew how to grind the pork
And spice it up just right...
So there I was, this morning, riding the bus home from work, and I'm thinking I might make eggs and toast for breakfast when I get home. And I think, hey, some turkey sausage would be good with the eggs and toast.
(Turkey sausage because even though I wrote "pork" in the lyric above, I don't actually eat pork. Or beef. I used to be strictly vegetarian, but I got over it. Still don't like beef or pork, though.)
So I go a couple of extra blocks to stop at a grocery store near my home, and I buy the turkey sausage, along with a few other things. Have I ever gone into a grocery store and come out only with what I intended to buy? I doubt it. Anyway, as I'm bagging my groceries and getting ready to leave, the cashier casually mentions, "Oh, by the way, looking at the sausage, there, made me think about Jimmy Dean. He died yesterday."
Jimmy Dean. Sausage. Wow, I can spoof that.
That's right. Some poor (well, not so poor) old guy kicks it, and the first thing I think is not, "Rest in peace," but, "I can spoof that."
And as it turns out, I can't. Except for that lame-ass attempt at song parody with which I opened this tale, my Muse is too ashamed to come out of hiding. This could last for as long as twenty-four hours.
I'll get over it.
Jimmy Dean, of course, won't.
Amethyst Ryder is not exactly sure why she felt compelled to share this story with the entire world.