Several years ago I went to Waffle House and was given a piece of ham back with my change from the cashier. It was a sizable piece, which makes me wonder how she didn't know it was in her hand. Sometimes mind-boggling things happen at that place. Here's a poem I wrote about the situation...
Ham For Change
How much is a piece of ham?
It must be worth something, oh ma'am.
That piece, that piece,
that piece of ham.
You gave me it with my change...
and I find it rather strange
that you'd give me a piece of ham
if it's worth nothing, oh ma'am.
A nickel?
A dime?
A quarter, or more?
Of what value is the ham, oh ma'am?
What did you give me it for?
It's sitting here in my hand
and I just don't understand--
I find it so very strange
that you gave me ham for change.
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