I examine my surroundings and see that in the corner of the sink, near the baby changing station, there's a Crock-Pot. I walk up to it, open the lid, and look down at a pile of warmed meatballs.
What the fuck?
I unplug the pot, pick it up, and exit the washroom.
"Whose meatballs are these?" I shout.
Patrons shoot me funny looks.
I haul the pot around the library "Whose Crock-Pot is this?"
I LOVE THIS BOOK
— Feb 24, 2026 06:40PM
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