10: we prefer red wine with our cheese

Because it’s slightly less depressing and infinitely more dramatic than being the premature sufferer of a stress ulcer at the tender age of 21, I have decided to pretend that I have actually become the host to an as-yet-unidentified mutant species of tapeworm. This new type of tapeworm represents a huge evolutionary leap above normal ones, I imagine: it is more sentient and malicious than your average stomach parasite, and probably deadlier too. I’m in hourly danger of being eaten alive from the inside out. Any day now I expect my tapeworm to burst forth from my stomach in a horror movie spray of blood and guts and assume an independent life of his own.

Until then, I have taken to calling him Raoul, which I feel lends him an air of aristocracy and high culture. I might soon start using him as an excuse to refer to myself in the royal “we” — at least when talking about food.

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~ by Not Alice on November 10, 2007.

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