The Sample SnatcherYou go in with just one mission
Get in, get out
Grab what you need
And you’re done
But then you see it
There at the end of the aisle
A little red booth
With the woman serving
There’s a crowd this time
She pulls the tray from the oven
There are only a few pieces
You spot the one you want
You scout out your competition
There’s the tall skinny one,
He was at the last booth
And the little kid, too
The chubby one comes running
As fast as he can
He swipes that little sample
Right from your reach
He runs away
Laughing all the way
Quite content
With his little snack,
You watch him go
And think to yourself
Next time, sample snatcher
Next time…
Because I know you’ll be there
Waiting to pounce
On someone else’s midday snack
But not on my watch
I’ll be there first next time
And then I will be
the sample snatcher,
snatching right from your reach  The Relevance of PotatoesPotato. That’s all it takes. Just hold a potato up to the end of the barrel and fire. That’s it.
I was lucky, I learned that trick my first time. Not everyone does though; some are too quick and jump for the opportunity right away. The sound is so loud it’d wake everyone and they’re caught within minutes. But the potato kept me safe for one more round. Hard to believe I’d ever say that in my life, but hey, whatever floats the boat right?
They train us from Day 1. Aim, shoot, repeat. Aim, shoot, repeat. They damn nearly drill it into our heads. The precision of it has to be perfect. We can’t miss the target, misfires are elimination material. Everything has to be perfect. Up close or distant, it doesn’t matter. We have to be perfect in any situation. They teach us the basics, but things like the potato? That’s part of our test. We have to prove that our minds are as skilled as our coordination and precision. They can only instill so   HorrorEntering the house quietly, in the hopes of surprising his wife with his early arrival, the man was greeted with a silent house. The house seemed so lifeless, he wondered if she’d gone out for groceries so she could make dinner later. He figured he would just wait for her to come home rather than call her, just to keep his presence a surprise.
It had been almost 5 pm when he’d walked in the door, nearly 3 hours later, the man’s wife still hadn’t come home. Worrying that something happened to her, or that she was cheating on him, he almost preferred the idea of something having happened to her. He realized a long time ago that he was almost never home anymore, but she was still his wife. She’d chosen to marry him and she had no right to go to someone else for the comforts he was supposed to provide.
His anger building, he dialed her number, any desire to surprise her at home was long gone. He heard the faint tone she’d put on her phone a few weeks ear
   

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Every time I see this laying around I have to smile.

 There is a wiener, so somewhat mature.