Hello, can you hear me? Listen, Michelle called this morning, she wants me to send money.
All I want to do is stuff my face with cake.
Who does that girl think she is? Getting pregnant and expecting the rest of us to look after her.
I am going to the bakery. I’m going to get in my car and drive one hundred and twenty miles, that’s sixty miles each way.
Today she tells me she wants me to be the Godfather. Like that’s some prize. I don’t want to know her baby. I don’t want to bond with it.
You know what I want to do? I want to go to the bakery. Listen, when I go I stand around saying I’ve got five people coming for dinner, so I’ll need six of those and six of these, and I really believe they are listening to my lies!
Michelle was crying. She said he beat her up. What does she expect? He’s a thug, he’s a loser. He’s poor. She said she left him and she wants to come live with me! What am I supposed to tell her? What am I supposed to do? How is it my responsibility? If I were a
female I would not be getting knocked up by anyone poor. No how!
All I want to do is eat cake.
She said he stole her jewelry. She has nothing. He even took her clothes. She said she’s in rags. Can you imagine.
By the way, after the bakery I make another stop. KFC. For a bucket, and dippin’ sauce. Yum-Eee.
Michelle needs to go ask one of her wealthy relatives. I can’t help her. I can’t have a baby in my house. Next thing the impregnator will track her down and move in here, and kill me, and kill my cat.
I shan’t take her call when she phones.
My routine is first I go to the bakery. Next I get me my KFC and dippin’ sauce. Next I go to the car wash. And in the car wash, when the car is all soaped up and sudsy, and no one can see me, and I’m finally all alone, I devour it all. I stuff the food into my face in an orgy of out of control piggery. I feast switching from sweet to savory; I jam it all into my fat face.
I feel so guilty.
I’m going to the bakery. I’ll call you later.
Oh, Christina, when I worked in an office, after 2PM all I could think about was stuffing my face on the way home. I used to plan it with perfect logistics, 3 stops a night at different fast food take out places. I would cram one or two things in my yap in the car,and smash the rest down the gullet before anyone knew I got home. My friends became nuisances, impediments to the food gathering. After dancing, I needed a Whopper to stay high so I bought five, gobbled them before I passed out. Once in a while, I had feelings about all this so I would eat a cheesecake and go back to sleep. I felt alone with it, but now see that I wasn’t. Thank you.