A story about not sharing appetizers

Stuffing my face is my only talent.

It’s safe to say that I’m pretty greedy. I do a fair job of hiding it, but nothing makes it harder to hide just how devious I actually I am like a person sitting across the table from me at a restaurant and asking me,

“hey, you wanna share an appetizer”?

I think the face I make when people ask me that question should be enough of an answer.

For some reason it seems like I’m always required to verbalize my greed.

“No, Carol. I don’t want to share those nachos. I want my own nachos”.  Why do you need me to say that shit out loud to you, bitch? Do you want to fight me? Are you starting a fight with me?! I have nothing to lose, Carol. NOTHING.

Oh, pardon me for eating like I have a ball of tapeworms living inside my stomach. Yes, it is their feeding time. NO, I don’t want to split a damn fried ice cream with you! I want a fried ice cream AND a tres leches cake all to  myself. Do not even touch my plate with your fork, Carol. It will be a mistake that will end your life. Do you want to find your whole arm in my mouth? I’m that hungry.

We should have gone to the restaurant sooner like I said. This wouldn’t have happened to you if we had. You wouldn’t be sitting here with your whole arm in my mouth, and my ball of tapeworms chewing on it. Oh, well. I guess you won’t be reaching for my plate now will you?


*I do not know anyone named Carol, but I’m sure if I did, she would know better than to try to share food with me.