You’re tearing him apart, Lisa!
“What Am I, Chopped Liver?”, Anthropomorphic Chopped Liver Asks His Estranged Wife
Lisa, won’t you reconsider what you’re doing? It’s not too late! Your husband LOVES you!
No! Don’t hang up again, please! Lisa, listen — just five minutes of your time, it’s all I ask! I’m a wreck, I’ve been beside myself–and you know I’m supposed to go beside the main dish, Lisa, not beside myself!
How long can you go on ignoring my calls, huh? Married nearly 30 years. What do you think it does to me? How low do you think it makes me when you act like I don’t exist?
What am I, dirt on the bottom of your shoe??? Am I a joke? Am I…I don’t even know if any saying exists that can accurately convey what I feel like!
Of course, you’re also upset. I never for a moment thought this was only affecting me! There are no winners here! Yes….ok. Okay, and I thank you for that. I really do! Thank you. I’ll do my best to not keep you long.
You think I didn’t pick up your disapproval, but I did. I noticed — I may be a bunch of fried and minced chicken livers, but I’m not blind. I wasn’t coming across as the same old-fashioned, unassuming menu item you fell for three decades ago, and you didn’t like it. I got the promotion and you worried I was getting a bit of an ego on me — and maybe I was! I did start to prefer being called pâté. It’s true! I did start walking around with my head held a little higher — metaphorically speaking. New doors were opening up for me, and I was excited. Though, no matter what you still believe, I never cheated on you during that business trip! I realize I can’t say anything more to convince you, but my conscience is clean.
Lisa, I can so vividly remember when we first met and those early days of our romance. I remember the colour of the dress you were wearing when you stepped into the delicatessen where I used to hang out. I wasn’t a fool; I understood I was an acquired taste, and you were almost certainly out of my league. You looked like a lobster kind of woman — a Wagyu Ribeye kind of woman! But, lo and behold, you chose me. How lucky could some pieces of organ meat ever hope to get?
In our vows — you were so radiant that day! — you listed the things you loved about me. You loved that I was unpretentious, traditional and not too fancy. I never pretended to be something I wasn’t, and I didn’t put on airs like those French spreads you dated before. Those parts of me seem like they’ve taken a backseat recently, and you’re disappointed — but I’ve always been made up of different parts! I’m onions and eggs! I’m salt and I’m pepper — I’m all of it at once, mixed together! I had big dreams and aspirations in the past, but I didn’t have robust enough confidence to pursue them — to apply myself fully!
I’m not liver alone, Lisa. It’s nothing new.
When you married me, you married a whole package. Even during the honeymoon phase, when I could do no wrong, you were never kept in the dark about my bad sides. We trusted each other with our secrets and shared the uglier truths about ourselves. You told me about your father’s gambling addiction — about how he didn’t make it to your Junior National Livestock show when you were in the 4-H club because he was slumped over the slots. It broke your heart, and I have never forgotten! You had a beautiful, beautiful cow that year, and when your mom finally tracked your dad down, he collapsed in tears and admitted to not changing his underpants for five days. In exchange, you learned I was full of cholesterol and saturated fats. You decided to accept me and continue being my wife anyway.
So, why not now? Why not with this? What problem is so big that it made you stop loving me?
…Oh God, don’t cry. Lisa, I can’t bear it when you cry — if you cry, I’ll cry! I’ve only got a little more I need to say! And then I’ll let you be — you’ll have all the space you asked for!
I promise I’m not a radically changed man — I mean, I’m not a man at all, but you catch my drift!! I am not your father, and we are not your parents. I’m moving in swankier circles, but I don’t think I’m the biggest hotshot in the world. Sure, I’ve become a little more refined, but I’m not completely out of touch. I might enjoy a snazzier title, but I would never enjoy another bride.
You once said…you said you could recognize me whether I was smeared on a cracker or put inside a sandwich, and I have faith you’d still be able to!!
Oh, sweetheart. Oh, Lisa! Please, yes, go blow your nose! And when all your ruminating is over, I pray you’ll come back home to me!!
