Blood may be thicker than water, but it’s certainly not as thick as ketchup. Nor does it go as well with French fries.

On the scale of tomato to ketchup, my girlfriend is definitely a 57.

Leave me with my leftover meatloaf and my Yesterday Sandwich. I’ll be in love tomorrow, if you come back with the ketchup.

I met a man with no forehead and receding eyebrows. He had ketchup crusted on his eyelids. I can’t remember what we talked about, I just remember him smelling like chicken feed.

Check the couch cushions for change—and hope. I drink my coffee raw, straight out of the ketchup bottle.

I loved her like meatloaf. Our love was the kind covered in ketchup—and not gravy.

In theater, blood is ketchup; in performance, everything’s real.

Agent Jones switched to the big screen and a grainy video of MoMo sitting at his enormous desk, a swivel-hipped Elvis clock ticking behind his bewigged head. ‘Death to the capitalist pigs! Death to your...