I hate it when she comes visiting', said the bread.

"I hate it when she comes visiting", said the bread.

"I feel so lonely. There's not much else on the table."

"Agreed" said the wine, looking at the other glass.

And giggled "I don't think she actually comes here to eat".

"Not the food, anyway," the hearty bottle added. And winked.

Brought a smile to all the others on the table. "Cheers!", they toasted.