Jesus the gingerbread man

pretty much says it all

Beginning of another calendar week, weak with hunger but the weekends only a week away. A magical time where mass plays host to the masses, masses of law abiding god fearing dairy lovers. Move through the smokers at the door, dodging those you hate to meet, find a seat, getting ready for a delicious treat. Aisle seats prime location to get the freshest batch. Lips moisten as he holds the crumbling dough skyward and beads of water fall off the side of the milk filled ice cold glass. A scurry “hurry hurry” the Zimmer frames of lames lay laden now act as hurdles. The front of the queue, I am in knee high socks my Sunday best shorts and blazer armed with a full grin and an empty stomach. Only a meal a week, there is a god.