All Natural

I don’t understand why I can’t just eat all the damn sea salt caramel chocolate bars I want without becoming diabetic. Or as many bacon wrapped anythings without having my chest sawed open and my veins suctioned out. Or as many Chick-fil-A Spicy Chicken sandwiches. Or as many buckets of movie theater popcorn layered with real butter-flavoring as I damn well choose. It’s all natural. Every single ounce of it comes from this planet. Something had to live or spawn to become the food that ends up in my stomach. And if was invented in a lab, someone with a pulse and a mother had to get in that lab to grow it, mutate it or invent it. Okay? Seriously, if it exists in reality, it’s natural. Now, who’s with me?

Confident Italian Chef or High School Bully?

Ay! Ay-you, come over here. I’m not gonna bite. I said come here.

You want a piece of this?

You want some of this?

How about a big plate of that right in your face?

You want that? Is that what you want?

You like it, don’t you? You want some more, is that what you’re telling me?

Yeah, that’s what I thought…