by Chuckstar

FSM is my chef; I shall not starve.
He maketh me rigatoni with sweet sauces:
He leadeth me inside the kitchen.
He restoreth good taste:
He leadeth me to the pasta strainer for al dente’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the foodcourt lacking pasta,
I shall fear no burgers: for thou art with me;
Thy noodley appendages, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me with marinara and alfredo;
Thou annointest my spaghetti with meatballs; My plate runneth over.

Surely cappucino and dessert shall follow pasta all the meals of my life,
and I will eat in the Olive Garden forever.

Food for thought…