A few weeks ago, when I was feeling sentimental about Christmas and Dad being sick, Devon cheered me up by picking up the world's greatest comfort food: Wonder Bread and Kraft singles slices, for "white trash" grilled cheese sandwiches. I know it was hard for him to spend money on these things, because he doesn't consider either "real food." This morning, on the way to work, he asked, "What is Wonder Bread made of, anyway?"
It's made of fucking wonder, that's what.
I don't care what anyone says. More for me.