Honey Pie, You're Not Safe Here

OK, friends, I had a near-death experience yesterday, and I think it ought to give you some good insight as to why I'm not married. Here's the story.

On Monday night, I was over at a friend's house. For the sake of the story, well call him Travis (also, because that's his name, and I'm over protecting people's identities). His family hosted Family Home Evening, and all the kids from church went over for a good time. At the end of the evening, Travis's adorable mother came downstairs and mentioned she'd made me some 14-grain bread (she appreciates my deeply-rooted belief that fiber is the answer to the world's problems). I was thrilled! What a lovely gesture!

Unfortunately, I got sick Monday night, and didn't have much of an appetite until Thursday, so the bread sat in the fridge until yesterday morning. Thinking some toast would do my body good, I sliced into the gorgeous loaf and inhaled the comforting scent. The first slice went into the Mickey Mouse toaster (which burns Mickey's face into the bread and plays the Mickey Mouse March when it's ready), and I cut another piece. But there was a surprise waiting for me--a jagged piece of clear plastic, over an inch long and approximately half a centimeter wide-- in the bread! Fortunately, I found it before it could get lodged in my throat, puncture my intestines, or cause some kind of internal bleeding.
Now, many of you are probably thinking, "Oh, this was an accident!" Could be. But isn't it also just as likely this was a message from Travis's mother, meant to be interpreted, "Stay away from my son, you hussy!"? Im just saying it's a dangerous world out there.