The guy at the deli counter says that life is like meat in a meat slicer.
You slice off a bit at a time, one slice after the other, until you get to the end.
Thin slices or thick slices, you still come to the end eventually.
All the while, he’s slicing up a chub of ham, and it’s getting shorter… shorter… shorter… and I wonder if he’s going to slice his hand to bits.
He stops just in time.
“You thought I was gonna cut my hand up?” he asks me.
Ever since then, I buy the prepackaged stuff.