Tagged: Food (993)

That is a hamburger, he tells the tourist. He says it slowly, with a painful enunciation. It is made of cow, he continues. And sometimes not

They bandied about words like dignity and pride. They spoke of the greater good. But he would not give up the chocolate. It’s mine, he cried

The gentleman entered the salon and shat on the rug. We weren’t the least bit offended; he was a foreigner. I took my meal in the vestibule.

He grew tired of the sharks. They circled his boat like, well, sharks. And he was bleeding. He ran out of food. He lay down, and fell asleep