Somewhere along the line it was assumed that all the bologna slices in the house were mine. These crazy people that live here keep asking for my permission to have some bologna.

I’m not angry or anything, I’m almost a little flattered. But, did I miss a meeting? When was I appointed the keeper of the bologna? I don’t run around tagging each slice before releasing it into the wild. You can take as much bologna as you want, whenever you want. I won’t show up with handcuffs and my badge from the Department of Ambiguous Meat Products if you want to have a sandwich. Go ahead, knock yourself out.

P.S. bologna bologna bologna bologna bologna bologna bologna bologna bologna