The Giant Monolithic Crouton of Doom

There I was, making my obsessive compulsive "identical for the two hundred and sixth day" salad. Wait. No. Who am I kidding? I've been eating this exact salad, with slight variations, for five or six years. My defense is that it's the kind of food I switched to when I decided to stop eating entire one pound bags of M&M's in an obsessive, color-pairing fashion. At least I'm making healthier choices with my neurologically glitchy behavior. Anyway...

First, a fistful of spinach. Full of iron.










Then a healthy sprinkling of broccoli, cabbage, and carrots (they keep one's hair nice and orangey-colored).









Then a glob of fattily delicious real bleu cheese dressing (I don't skimp and use crappy store brand lowfat slimey ranch. There's got to be some pleasure involved in this ordeal).








One shiny red apple, buffed to perfection.










Choppy choppy.










Addy addy.










Then, a few croutons -- whoa! What is this?










The giant monolithic crouton of doom. I'm scared*!

Someone at the crouton factory needs to review their quality inspection procedures.

*No, seriously, I'm scared. I can't eat this crouton. It's in a plastic baggie on a shelf above my sink. I have no idea what to do with it.