I was looking over the shoulder of a man at a coffee house today as he was reading the Star Tribune. On the page he was looking at was this headline:
Yes, I snapped a picture. No, I didn't ask permission. Yes, that might seem rude. No, I don't care. I didn't want to be so rude as to hover him and read the article so I do not know what the meatball secrets are. But I did think all day about what they might be.
I figure the biggest secrets they keep are actually lies they tell the younger meatballs. I bet when younger meatballs ask where baby meatballs come from, they say a stork. What meatball wants to tell their youth that they come from a dead farm animal who meets a meat grinder and an Italian cook? They keep that a secret. And when the little ones ask what happens in the dining room, I doubt they mention being eaten and slowly turning into poop. They probably make up some story about long lost pets and heaven.
They probably secretly hate the 'On Top of Spaghetti' song too.