Fast food and filthy lies
The thought gave me great joy.
“That’s not a very good idea. And we don’t have any M-80′s, it’s against the law to have them in the truck.”
Always doing everything by the book, he is.
“Well since you don’t mind diseased rabbit tripe, I guess you’ll eat your nasty scab and mayonnaise sandwich with cheese. Cheese is supposed to make it all better, I guess. You ate it and you liked it, didn’t you? I can’t live with someone who eats mayonnaise.”
There was no longer any doubt I had gone over the edge. Hunger does that to me.
“You’re a nurse. Blowing things up is frowned upon by the nursing board in any state.”
He carefully noted this, hoping to distract me from my original plan.
“Yeah, well it’s good I’m a nurse because I can help all the innocent victims in the wreckage of the burning drive thru after I blow the sandwich up.”
The thought, again, gave me great joy.
“There will be no burning wreckage from an M-80. You may hurt yourself, but there will be no burning wreckage. I know this, I have a Haz Mat certification. And I know you.”
Clearly this was not what I wanted to hear.
“You and your vicious lies!! You’re trying to take the joy out of blowing this sandwich up for me. Of course I can light the fuse of an M-80 without hurting myself.”
“Two words. July 2004.”
“That totally wasn’t my fault. The fuse was defective. You are evil.”
It had to be said.
“You’re freaking out over a sandwich.”
Of course, he was right and I didn’t blow the sandwich up, but I DID NOT feed the cheese -laden, mayonnaise-soaked sandwich to the dog. I saved it and took it to the next French Dip place we stopped at as proof they are trying to starve me to death. That’ll teach ‘em.