FoxTrot Classics by Bill Amend for February 01, 2024

My dad grew up on a farm during the Great Depression. He was fine with whatever sandwiches his mother made him for his school lunch — except for the cold calf’s brain sandwiches.

This is why I never complain about my brother’s cooking.

By the time I was in middle school, I had three choices: make my own lunch, spend my own money to buy it, or go hungry.

Today kids aren’t allowed to bring any kind of nuts to school because of the few who have allergies.

My middle school had two lanes for lunches: one was the “School” lunch and the other was for outside food sources like dominos pizza. Usually went to that one if I didn’t bring my own.

In high school they didn’t make us stay on campus during lunch so I just left and ate at subway or mcdonalds.

Coughing up blood is good for her… probably.

Switch her from PB&J to eggplant cutlet sandwiches with tofu spread. She’ll be fixing her own PB&J sandwiches in no time!

Promises, promises Paige.

And they’re vegetarian…

True!

Reminds me of the old joke about the three construction workers—one Irish, one Italian, and one Polish—who bring their lunch pails up to the top of the skyscraper. . . .

Andy knows her family, they’d rather whine about their food into eternity than make it themselves.

She’d rather curse the darkness than light a candle.

She doesn’t need any of your bologna, Paige.