because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Friday, 13 April 2012

When food replaces sex.



“You know what I want?”
“What?”
“A sandwich.”
“A sandwich?”
“Yeah. Made with that white bread that doesn’t have the crusts.”
“Tramezzini?”
“Hmmmm. With pesto. And cream cheese.”
“In the same sandwich? Mixing it all up like that?”
“Yeah. Mixing it up real good. Maybe get a little avocado up in there too.”
“Oh. I like your imagination.”
“It’d be so good. I’d take it all down.”
“Then what…?”
“Then what?”

“Then what do you want?”
“I want… tomatoes. Cherry tomatoes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And on those tomatoes, I want a little sea salt.”
“You do?”
“Oh yeah. If I had cheery tomatoes, I’d take ‘em-“
“-I bet you would-“
“And I’d lay ‘em down…”
“… Uh-huh…?”
“And I’d slice ‘em open, one by one…”
“God, that sounds good.”
“Then I’d take a little sprinkle of that salt,”
“Mmmmm…”
“And I’d throw it all over. All. Fucking. Over. And then I’d open my mouth, and do you know what I’d do? I’d put them in. Put them all in. And I’d swallow them all.”
“That’s so bad.”
“So bad it’s good. And you know what else? I’d take an egg, too.”
“Hard… boiled?”
“Chocolate. A chocolate Kinder egg. And not some in-in-one piddley thing, either. I want it big. A big, chocolate egg. White on one side, milk on the other. And… oh yeah… I’d take a bite of the sandwich, then a bite of the egg, and then the sandwich again…”
“God, that sounds so good.”
“Maybe some fries, too. Salted and dripping in Mayonnaise. Or Mozzarella balls. Hot out of the oven. And I’d take those balls, and I’d dip them in the good stuff, and once I’d done the ball I’d do the egg, then the sandwich, then some more of the balls…”
“A food orgy.”
“A fucking food orgy.”
“Everybody just eating what they wanted, no rules, no guilt?”
“Just pleasure.”
“God. I’m just so hungry.”
“Me too.”
“Damn.”
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