![]() Who ever needed a left hand? Then you remember that Jack-that’s his name, the mac and cheese-plays lacrosse. But a boy’s got to eat-maybe you could just nibble a bit at the edges? A part he won’t miss, and then fuck the rest of him. It likes Joy Division more than New Order, and owns every Sonic Youth album, and saw you in the audience at the latest Arctic Monkeys concert, though you were too stoned to notice anything but the clearly sub–par cheesy mac you’d brought with you.Īnd what if he-I mean “it”-were really hot? Tall and lanky and weirdly well muscled, with bright blue eyes and ginger hair? So, he smells like the best meal you’ve ever eaten, but you kind of want to bone him too. Imagine if right before you were about to tear into it, the mac and cheese starts talking to you? And it’s really cool. I’m talking gourmet cheddar, the expensive stuff from Vermont that crackles as it melts into that crust on top. No neon yellow Velveeta and bread crumbs. ![]() Think of it like the best macaroni and cheese you’ve ever had. ![]()
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