Rolling. Rolling. Rolling. Meatball always drove his macaroni wagonwheel down the highway with no particular direction in mind. He picked up friends along the way and drank at pool halls and pubs. He took girls on dates to the drive-in theater. He worked jobs as he saw fit, always enough to maintain his plump round figure. Everything was fine, and there didn’t seem to be much more to life than Rolling. Rolling. Rolling. Rolling.
Until one day, he drove to a fork in the road. Literally. A giant fork stabbed deep into the winding lasagna highway blocked his macaroni wagon wheel from, you know…Rolling. Rolling Rolling.
Meatball veered to the left but in a burst of light rays and butterflies, a woman in a multicolored sun dress appeared in his path. “Meatball, I’ve been looking for you,” she smiled, with a gentle twinkle in her eye, “You’ve been ignoring your values sweetie pie. There’s no reason that you can’t help those in desperate need and sustain a lifestyle. You advise others in your shoes but you have yet to answer your calling. Now’s your chance to live a life that you can be proud of. What do you say?”
Meatball veered to the right, but materializing from coins and cologne, a man in a Versace suit stood in his way. “Who are you kidding Meatball?” the man asked with a suave smile. “You can barely take care of yourself right now, and you’re thinking about taking care of others when you can’t even pick your laundry up off of the floor or have a fridge stocked with food? You want to take vacations in exotic countries and get married and have a stable life for once, don’t you? I noticed that you appreciate the quality of my suit; I can assure you, it is comfortable. You’ve never adjusted well to society, boy, with THEM, and admit it, it’s nice having a little power, isn’t it? People don’t screw with you now because money makes a good shield, don’t it? Listen, take care of yourself first, be consistent, because you are not abundant enough yet to handle when others take from you. What do you say?”
Meatball looked left. Meatball looked right. Both options sounded equally valid, and he never had to worry about anything besides his nice round shape before. He turned around. Whooshing down from the sky landed a giant spoon catapult. He rolled into its metal curvature and cut the rope. He hurtled down the middle and cleared the top of the fork into the foggy pesto air.
