The fluorescent lights hummed above the cafeteria table, casting a sterile glow on the four figures huddled over their lunch trays. Gandhi, his eyes distant, traced a pattern on the tablecloth with his fork. Abe, ever the animated one, was mid-sentence about his latest political theory, but his voice trailed off as his gaze locked on the steaming, golden-brown chunk of cheesy bread nestled on Gandhi’s tray.
“Excuse me, my friend,” Abe said, his voice filled with a newfound reverence. “Is that… Papa John’s cheese bread?”
Gandhi, startled, looked up. “Why, yes! You wouldn’t happen to have a fondness for it, would you?”
“Fondness? My dear Gandhi, I have a downright devotion to that heavenly concoction!” Abe exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “Why, I’d eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if it wouldn’t turn me into a human loaf of bread.”
Just then, Cleo, always the fashionista, gracefully slid into the seat next to Gandhi. “Oh, my gosh, that cheese bread smells heavenly! What kind of sorcery did you use to get your hands on that?”
Gandhi, now beaming, recounted the tale of his daring raid on the school kitchen after hours. He was interrupted by JFK, whose eyes had followed the cheese bread with a dazed fascination. “I… er… uh… cheesy bread, my biscuits hole… hmm,” he mumbled, rubbing his stomach with a dreamy expression.
Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from underneath the table. “Papa John’s cheese bread, you say? Why, that’s my culinary weakness!” A lanky figure, Scudworth, propelled himself onto the chair beside Cleo, his eyes wide with delight. “The gooey cheese, the buttery dough… it’s a symphony of flavor, a masterpiece of pizza-related delicacies!”
Mr. Butlertron, who had been serving them, stopped mid-step, a tray laden with glistening silverware frozen in his robotic hand. “Allow me to add my two cents,” he boomed, his voice a robotic symphony of enthusiasm. “The Papa John’s cheese bread is a triumph of culinary ingenuity, a masterpiece of doughy perfection! The perfect balance of crispy, cheesy, buttery goodness, a veritable explosion of flavor!”
A wave of laughter erupted from the group. Even the catfish, which had been silently observing from the floor, let out a little gurgle of agreement.
“It’s… it’s wonderful,” Cleo giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.
Abe, his face flushed, held up his hand for quiet. “Wait! I have an idea!” He pulled a pen and notepad from his bag. “Let’s write a haiku about Papa John’s cheese bread!”
Gandhi, still chuckling, nodded his approval. “Ah, yes! A haiku, a truly fitting tribute to this culinary wonder!”
As they spent the rest of their lunch period composing their cheesy haiku, the room filled with a chorus of laughter, exclamations, and even the occasional, “Papa John’s cheese bread… my pretty fat biscuit hole tho!”
YOU ARE READING
ai clone high stories
Humorthese are all satire me and my friend make these for shits and giggles 😭😭 we used toolbaz.com for these
