A Funger Sandwich, we are to understand, is not an enjoyable thing.

It is a funny word, and one which has been all but lost in history. When we know what it is, we know why Tartan bought his friend the dog.

Funger. That stuff in the fridge.

That meal we didn't quite enjoy.

The one nobody really wants to eat as leftovers.

The thing that is CLOSE to being inedible from decay, but NOT QUITE so funky we feel justified in throwing it out.

Oh, nothing growing actual MOLD, because Funger is NOT FUNGUS. It is just GOING TO BE if we don't EAT IT FIRST. Not the "The Creature That Lived In The Refrigerator, Behind the Mayonnaise, Next to the Ketchup and to the Left of the Cole Slaw" that left Garfield in terror.

The whole guilt trip over wasting food that drives us to EAT THE THING we do not want to eat.

You know, FUNGER.

This is a word I have recently learned the meaning of. (Yes, I know. Keep your participles to yourself.) A word which ACTUALLY has APPLICATION in my life... and in my fridge.

Funger sandwich, not so much.

Funger casserole? Maybe.

A plate full of funger. It has happened.

But often, it is just chicken food.

Geez... I wish I had a pig.

(Yes... this really IS food heritage. This really IS a Native American word. An English derived one, but Native American none-the-less. I have this on good authority, from a genuine Native American.)