"Good luck with Steve, Alex"

—He could shoot the cuffs of a raglan sweater, he could charm a spider right off its feets;

but his own personal, permanent Kryptonite was that his brain called everyone Steve.

Hey, I swear to you that he was amazing —his mini-dachshund ate a whole wheel of cheese!

He had a mustache that would crazily curl up every time he sneezed!

But I'm afraid that no girl's ever touched him, despite his shapely-muscled tan hairless chest,

because it wouldn't have worked at all anyway — he's had this weird thing for the black queen in chess.

And his favorite pieces of music are all garbage-disposal techno medleys

made by some freak in Idaho, posted to YouTube – wow, one's viewcount just broke 17.

But then yesterday he earnestly said to me that he was in love with Steve(!),

but Steve doubted his sincerity (both were best friends with another named Steve).

...Still I'm confident that I know what he meant – gotta be sensitive, he's one of my peeps;

but he'll never get him or her if he keeps up his tanning oil secret: old used fry-grease!

"The Hunger Pangs"

Let's go inside and eat!

–before we're deet!–

of natural cause,

which'd suck just-because..

A death-blow from hunger

would likely keep me from Valhalla,

and the dead never do get

to live it down.

–But if cold pizza can save us,

then so let it be, God!

Please, I pray you will

have delivered us!