Spam.
A proposition.
I know you want me. Don’t deny it. There’s desire in your eyes. Yet you refuse to touch me. Why? Am I not pretty enough? Too old? Get to know me. I’ll show you what you’re missing.
Fifteen different flavors. Teriyaki. Hot & Spicy. I’m anything but vanilla. Seven grams of protein, under five bucks. Some call me cheap. No refrigeration needed, either. And, I last a long time. Lazy Sunday night? Eat me right out of the can. I’m easy like that. Oh, you prefer to work for it? Throw me on the skillet and have your way with me. Who could satisfy you like Spam? Ramen? Yeah, if you’re a broke college student. Mac and cheese? When you were ten, maybe. Why deny yourself the pleasure of eating me? Were you eating Spam when your parents announced their divorce? Just put me in your mouth. Taste me. I’m the best you’ll ever have.
Spam’ll give you a new lease on life. Spam’ll make you whistle through the walk of shame.
What more could you possibly want? Just take off my can and eat me, for God’s sake. Make me yours.