So, this year, I’m writing an open letter, on behalf of myself and vegans everywhere, to help those who sincerely want to feed us.
Dear Loved One,
Thank you so much for the invitation to your party! I appreciate your thoughtfulness and your desire to include me, and after careful consideration, I’ve decided to accept. This year, however, I’ll be making some changes.
As much fun as I’m sure it will be to see an entire pig roasted on a spit, I think I’ll bring my own vegan Italian sausages to roast over the fire—the same variety I brought last year. Remember, the ones you said weren’t fit for your dog to eat? After watching your sweet canine choke down a pile of his own droppings, I consider your endorsement one of highest praise and quality.
Speaking of those vegan sausages, should you be compelled to insist upon cooking them yourself, may I ask, once again, that you not do so on the same burger-grease-dripping grill as last year? Also, if your children truly do prefer eight-for-a-dollar pig-part hot dogs, would you mind not feeding my two-dollar specialty sausages to them?
Are you planning any dishes this year which don’t include bacon? I’ve never actually seen crumbled bacon used as a staple ingredient, but maybe it’s a regional thing I don’t quite have a grasp on.
The “rabbit food” you pointed me to last year was actually a Caesar salad, filled with cheese and anchovy dressing (and bacon!). May I offer to bring a green salad this year, with almonds for protein?
That reminds me… I checked again, and chicken still isn’t vegetarian nor vegan this year, though you’re absolutely welcome to continue to suggest it is again, along with cheese, sour cream, and tuna fish.
Though the idea of digging in to your grandmother’s mayonnaise-based potato salad (with bacon!) is appealing, after it’s had a couple hours to “cure” in the sun, I believe I’ll bring a three-bean salad to share with those who may have an aversion to food poisoning.
It’s a mystery to me how flavored collagen from bones and hooves, tossed into a bowl with sugared fluid from bovine mammary glands, with a can of syrup-packed pineapple chunks passes for a “fruit salad,” but may I bring a fruit salad that is actually made entirely of fruit? I can’t promise that fabulous curdling effect after it warms up, but perhaps you’ll forgive my culinary ineptitude.
Is there really a good reason to slather butter on every vegetable before it’s served? Corn on the cob is delightful when served slippery, and it collects the gnats better that way, too, but could you set aside an unbuttered cob for the girl who clearly has no taste? I’d appreciate it, ever so much.
While I’m sure pork and beans (with a cube of bacon fat!) out of a can are top-notch picnic food, would you mind terribly if I brought some homemade baked beans, made with espresso and top-shelf bourbon to share? I’m sure you can pick some bacon out of the antipasto to throw in there, if your guests find it lacking.
I so look forward to your event, and hope to enjoy with much gusto and without gastrointestinal distress. Can’t wait to see you!
Your Vegan Friend,
Sexy Vegan Mama
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