Icky but goody.

In response to the Daily Prompt

Think of something that truly repulses you. Hold that thought until your skin squirms. Now, write a glowing puff piece about its amazing merits.

Oh my dear pumpkin pie, why must you be Nonna’s favorite thing to make at Thanksgiving? Your brownish, yellowish, orangish, rustish, softish, ickyish look just does not appeal to my eyes; and we all know that we eat with our eyes first. You merely make that possible, almost impossible really,  even just the thought. But I have also been taught not to judge from the outside but also one’s content of character. I spray a dash of whipped cream on top of you, and I reluctantly take a bite… then magic. My nonna made you, and for that you can never be icky.

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Icky but goody.