Re-tenderized because too often it was abandoned on the grill.
Once pink and soft, it was swalloed by a sea of orange and red flames from the grease fires.
It was burnt slowly, blackened and charred with carcinogenic deposits of grief, remorse, and guilt.
Quality time alone scraped away the hardened bits until it was restored.
Here I am today, happily nestled in the back of the freezer.
Every couple of days, the door to my personal ice box opens.
The crackling of ice is deafening as layers of frozen condensation are ripped from the seams of the door.
As clouds of frost billow into the unknown outside world, I wonder if it's time for me to go too. The clouds resemble fog in horror movies that blankets the oversized killer dressed in a tattered robe made of aged potato sacks as he waddles after yet another whorish teenager to run his blade through.
Who knows what lies beyond the ice encrusted waterproof seal.
It's best I hang out with the forgotten but eternally preserved green peas.