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The Vegetarian's Dilemma On A Bitchy Day

Hi, yourself. Jerk. 
Oh? You didn't realize I have been up for hours working on my computer stuff? 
I was sitting there in my room. I was trying to concentrate...okay? 
I maximize my time. Maximize. Maximization, shit-head.
Uh, yes. I do know what that fucking word means.
Taking care of business, that's what it fucking means. Look it up, Billy.
Pfft...
Billy...what are you, a fucking 7 year-old? 
A God-Damned, 33 year-old "man" named Billy...
Either way, it's something you wouldn't even know about...
You don't need to "Google" anything, asshole. What the fuck are you doing anyway?
Making a fucking mess, it looks like. 
No...seriously...go right on ahead...let's use the paper-towels that I bought.
Wiping up butchered, animal meat and blood...why not? 
Remember, I'm just a fucking vegetarian
You know, completely opposed to the cruel living conditions
And the insanely, inhumane treatment of animals...
Animals that are raised and fucking slaughtered. 
Their only purpose in this World, is to be killed and fed to scum-fucks like you...
Me...your room-mate Stacy...and I'm not even a lesbian...I truly, truly love the dee...
More than animals, really...It's a fucked-up sliding scale, 
Like a: "Love You/Fucking Ruin Your Life If I Don't" sort of dynamic...
But, I fucking care about animals, and that's important.
I mean, I was trying to work on my latest installment of:
"Why Puppy Dogs Are So Gosh Darn Cute"
For my fucking website and, you know, I get completely engrossed and consumed 
In my writing projects and shit...and I was just really being prolific in there.
Just fucking typing away. I know you fucking heard me working.
My consciousness was streaming and I was fucking free-associating...
This is my subject of expertise and everybody fucking knows it...
One time I left the walking path at the dog-park to go pee in the woods
And I heard a lady say to her friend: "That Stacy, she should be an animal-doctor. 
No. No, not her. You know, the pee-log-girl...Stacy...she has blonde hair...big ti...
Well, you'd know her if you saw her." 
That's a real fucking story, so don't smirk. Because, other people can see this shit too.
And, so today, sure enough as I am typing the fifth paragraph of Section 3
Titled: "Begging For Treats," all I can hear is something sizzling. 
I hear things sizzling and simmering and the whole apartment stinks!
It smells like a delicious cook-out on the beach, 
And I can't even fucking concentrate because of it.
Fuck you. I did not say, "delicious."
At least you were able to pause your "Monkey Kong" game
Or whatever the fuck it's called, long enough to realize you were hungry.
Get out of the way. Scoot over.
Oh? You thought you would try something new, did you? 
Just cook a few 16-ounce burger-patties of succulent, Wisconsin, grass-fed beef?
Let me guess...(sniff)...the extra ingredients in these obviously, flavor-packed
Burgers are onion-soup-mix and Worcestershire sauce.
I'm not a fucking idiot, that's how I know.
80/20?
85/15? Okay...are you sure?
I'm just saying, they look a little greasy to be 85/15 but, you're the "chef."
What?
I am just flipping the burgers over, you deviant.
What the hell does it look like I'm doing? 
They're obviously gonna get burned if I don't. Idiot. 
They're your hamburgers...I'm just wondering why you aren't paying attention...
Harold Christ help me, because, Ron McDonald you're not, that's for sure.
Picking at what? I wasn't "picking" at your hamburgers! 
Me, of all people, picking at your hamburgers, that's a laugh!
What? What notch? That? It's not "uneven." I don't see what...
Look, a piece of burger crumbled off and I threw it into the fucking garbage.
Okay?
It's a fucking hamburger...it's gonna crumble somewhat...
I threw it away, right into the garbage can, right over there!
Well, if it's not right on top, then I don't know what happened to it.
I'm not a fucking scientist, Billy.
You didn't see me put anything in my mouth.
I am not chewing on hamburger-crumbles! Stop it, you're making me cough.
No, I'm not. See, there's nothing in my mouth, Bleeeeaaahhh!
Quit being weird. I'm not "hiding" anything. 
Whatever...I don't have to turn around and look at you. 
Why don't you get out of here and go find something to do?
I don't think it sounds like I'm talking with food in my mouth.
Stop looking in the fucking garbage can, already. It's just, who knows...
What? I'm just...
Well, look at this. Really, come here, you mind-less...come here! Look!
Perfectly cooked...see that slight trace of pink in the middle...all the fucking juice? 
What are these over here? Ooh, ooh, ooh...
Fresh-baked, over-sized Kaiser Rolls that you specially bought for this occasion? 
Lightly toasted? Are they? Yeah? Are they? You are truly a piece of shit.
I can just imagine what you...
Why do I see my Tupperware container of celery sticks
On the fucking, bottom shelf of the fridge?
Would you get your hands away from me! You don't need your hand on my arm to look.
The celery sticks go in the fucking crisper
I know I wouldn't have put them not in the crisper! 
That's my supper for the next 5 days, okay?
Do you think I say to myself at the fucking grocery-store:
"Hey, Stacy! You know what you should spend your money on for week-night dinners?"
Duhhh...I don't know, Stacy.
What should you spend your money on for week-night dinners?
"Brown Vegetables! That's what!"
Because, that's not what I say to myself at the grocery store...
And...yeah? Well...hey, smart-ass...get this:
I could really give a fuck that potatoes are brown before you peel 'em...
Bill? Shut it! Please. Please, you motherf...
What's this? What is this? Right in my crisper! 
Is this a present for me?
Of course not!
Head of lettuce, a bunch of Roma tomatoes, white onion...
And there's three types of cheese here too: Colby, Pepper-Jack and Swiss.
It must have been "Dress Like A Sailor Day" at the Market, yeah? 
Got yerself a discount fer dressin' up, did'ja? 
What is this? A fucking avocado
They don't call you "Thin-Dome" for nothing! Right, Billy? 
Mother Teresa jumped the gun and certainly was a dyke because of you, I'm sure.
Hey, Brah! Let's put some avocado on a burger and call it a "California Burger!" 
You making "California Burgers, Billy?" 
Because, avacados on shit means it's from California! Right, Oxford-Graduate Billy?
You mainstream, hipster faggot!
Hey, Billy! I'll meet you at the Oyster Bar for some Sake after work!
I'll be the asshole with the sweater draped around my shoulders!
"We're not-at-all ready for another top-off, Wilson!
But, please be so kind as to check on our well-being at quarter of!" 
That's the type of people I piss in the faces of, in my everyday life, Billy-boy.
I'm not smooshing anything, so back off. 
Just...I'm putting them back just fine. 
I fucking didn't say anything just a minute ago. 
Ummm...I didn't...soooo....
You're just high, okay? Just admit that you're really high and...no, no, no...wait!!!
Oooh! Let's just imagine that Stacy said something
And now, let's be mad at her even though you fucking imagined it, Billy!
See, there it goes...
(Grunt)
It's...it's all the way closed, that drawer.
(Extended Grunt) 
Fucking brand new.
The crisper drawer looks exactly like it did before, Forrest Gump Junior. 
And that's another thing...that whole....red, beet-colored, face-thing...
Yes, that shit! That shit, you have going on right now...seriously, what the fuck is that?
Is that just because you're a fucking hick? 
It's seems like, to me, you...are you following, shit-licker?
Good. 
It seems like, to me, like you have this glazed-over, uncomprehending, spaced-out, too-tired-to-argue-no-you-can-see-I-am-visibly-sweating-more-than-anybody-you-have-ever-ever-met-but-sure-we-can-close-the-fucking-windows-you-bet-I'm-good-that's-enough-cool-fresh-country-breezes-for-the-both-of-us-tonight-and-yup-let's-get-more-blankets-is-that-the-heavy-quilt-great-good-thing-the-windows-are-going-to-be-closed-all-night-zero-air-movement-in-this-room-there-will-only-be-the-sound-of-me-struggling-to-breathe-and-the-sound-of-your-hot-breath-which-is-blowing-right-in-my-fucking-non-sleeping-face-by-the-way-and-I-don't-know-where-the-fuck-I-am-Holy-Fucking-God-help-me-and-God-tell-me-how-the-fuck-I-got-here look about you.
It's just seems you have this, almost corpse-like attitude all of the sudden 
That I don't fucking care for, you know?
Where or when did that start? What could have possibly fucked you up so much?
Right now, you're looking like some dumb-fuck with a couple of cold hamburgers and...
C'mon! (Clapping Hands) Wake up, Sleepy! 
You know, I shouldn't even be surprised about this...but, really?
The tape-measure goes in the fucking silver-ware drawer, now?
In this apartment, that's where it fucking goes, I guess...
I know that when I need utensils while I'm eating healthy, bean-curd tostadas 
I'm also thinking:
"I need a 25-foot, metal, tape-measure and a bowl of extra screws!
If the tape-measure is super-rusty, that would be even better!
What a blessing that all this shit is in the same drawer!"
Don't you dare lay down on that couch! 
Because, that's my sitting spot
Well, maybe when there's some fucking peace and quiet around here, for once,
I will be able to sit down. 
It's pretty evident that I can't right now, as a result of all this fucking noise. 
I'm supposed to be fucking stressed out in my sitting spot? Is that it?
You're just a trouble-maker. Do you know that?
You'll probably drool all over the cushions...
Or do something else that's fucking stupid to dirty them up.
I just want to know where you get this fucking attitude
Are you fucking someone? 
That's it! I knew it!
Some bar-fly probably gave you syphillis
And now, all you have left in your dummy-head is a fucking brain-stem.
You're disgusting and pathetic.
I think I need...yes...I'm just going to take a long, detoxifying shower. 
I've got this new hibiscus and dandelion shampoo that...
I just...I just sense that my hair-follicles need to be hydrated like, immediately.
Okay, dirt-ball?
They need to be fucking moisturized and they need nourishment.
I feel like your negativity is polluting my energy right now.
So maybe, while I'm in there replenishing, you could...
Don't you dare make noises at me and try to fucking shoo me away!
If you're going to fucking act like a Swiffer Sweeper
Why don't you just start by taking care of those dust-bunnies underneath the futon
Yeah? 
Swiffer Sweepers and Dust-Bunnies in the same fucking sentence makes you laugh?
Yes, it's funny. All of this is funny, isn't it?
Everything...This whole fucking room is hilarious, right?
Maybe, slamming this newspaper here, down on the table as hard as I can...(whap)
Maybe...(whap) maybe, that won't be so fucking funny...(whap)...
It's so wonderful that you're laughing even harder, now! What a gentleman!
I'm so glad that one of us is laughing.
I know what's funny because I have a fucking sense of humor...
And seeing you rolling around on that dingy carpet,
Which needs to be vacuumed, as I now notice,
Not even able to speak because you are having a giggle-fit...
That makes me think you need help...professional-fucking-help...
When I get out of the shower, we are having a serious talk!
In fact, you know what? Fuck this and fuck you...
I'm going to bed...


The End

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