What in God’s name is in the ranch dressing at Sweet Tomatoes?

You may recall that Grace and I have a history of rather interesting conversations over meals at Sweet Tomatoes–last time we were there she questioned the legitimacy of my birth.  Tonight was altogether different, but just as fascinating.

Grace has decided that she wants to “be a Sweet Tomato” when she grows up, which is her way of saying she wants to work there.  Personally, I’d rather she stick to her previous aspiration, owning Granmarie’s Chicken Pot Pie Shop and keeping it open 24 hours a day.  My mind was wandering as she babbled on about her career plans, mainly because I was trying to distract myself from the Taco Mess of a Salad that tasted like my feet that was on the plate in front of me but I snapped back to attention as she drifted towards the matter of procreation.

this is disturbing

Grace was concerned with how she would be able to achieve her dream of becoming a Sweet Tomato since she was not born to Sweet Tomato parents.  You see, the boy Sweet Tomatoes and the girl Sweet Tomatoes get married and then the boy Sweet Tomato puts a baby in the girl Sweet Tomatoes’ stomach and that is how future Sweet Tomatoes’ employees are are made.  As far as Grace is concerned, the entire labor force of Sweet Tomatoes is its own distinct race of people, specifically bred for the purpose of working at Sweet Tomatoes.  Oh and they live there too.

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