The Tragedy of the Little Lost Pork Chop.

At this time, join me for a moment of silence in honor of Nat's pork chop, who he had high aspirations for but who he left unwittingly at the supermarket yesterday evening. After a long and arduous journey home, he could not bring himself to return for his beloved meaty one. All was lost. He settled for a meager helping of eggs and Triscuits, instead. Nat, we're all very sorry for your loss. Please allow me to deliver the eulogy!

Part of me wants to make flyers, with a sketch-artist mock-up and everything.

Lost: One delicious pork chop. If found, please contact Nat, via chroniclesofhildy.blogspot.com.

Ahem.

The Pork Chop of Woe

Woe is the pork chop
that got left behind
my plump, delicious one

Who’s eating you now?
I wonder as I drown my sorrows
in my cornflakes*

You would have been so juicy
but I wasn’t even man enough
to save you, there was still time

Now I languish
in my cold, dark apartment
all hope of your tender meatiness gone

I feel so empty inside
know that I’ll never forget you
my stomach will remember

Damn the curséd chop-monger who took you!
and enjoyed you for his very own
my beloved pork chop of woe


*[stale Triscuits] - The poem was already completed before I found out about the Triscuits. And, I think cornflakes just works well here for some reason. So I kept it. However, for historical accuracy, "stale Triscuits" should technically be noted.