I wish the stork delivered things other than babies. Like soup. Because let’s face it. We all love soup. Every last one of us. Without exception. And we crave it endlessly. Sometimes while we’re eating soup, we’ll already be craving the soup we’re going to eat two soups later. And by the time we get to that soup, we’re already craving a soup we’re not going to eat until the year 2011. That’s just the way we’re programmed. We’re basically addicted to soup. We can’t physically live a single moment during which soup is not being consumed and digested by our bodies. I’m eating soup right now. If I wasn’t, I think I’d be dead.
Given this, why wouldn’t the stork deliver soup? Only babies? Who needs a stork to deliver babies? Fucking delivers babies. Fucking does not deliver soup. The only thing that delivers soup is getting up off the couch, which we’re obviously not going to do, and walking to the supermarket to buy some soup. It’s 11:42pm right now, the supermarket isn’t even open. Well, the bodega is, and the bodega would also have soup, but this ruins my argument, so let’s pretend there isn’t a bodega literally half a block away. Or another bodega half a block past that. No bodegas. Only closed supermarkets. Where am I supposed to get soup after the supermarkets close? If I ran out of soup (which I won’t, because I have a 16-year supply), I’d really appreciate a stork knocking on my door with a new stock. I don’t even care that a stork likely can’t knock on a door, due to having wings instead of hands. There’s got to be some other way he can get my attention. I’m sorry for assuming the stork is a “he.” I’m just very sexist, and women belong in the kitchen. Making me soup.