“Hey, whaddya doin? Didn’ I tell you that you can’t eat that junk food?”

“Wahddya mean? You’re the one with the weight problem, not me.”

“I am you.”

“No you ain’t. You’re the one with the weight problem.”

“Besides, it ain’t just the calories. Look at those ingredients. They’ll kill you. Read the label, ‘Diatonic, phychologic, metabolic infusions of homogenized sea urchin, 2 mg per serving.’ That’s enough to make your hair fall out.”

“I’m already bald.”

“Yeah, but look at this, ‘ginseng enhanced, powdered nitrous oxide of alligator egg, 5 mg per serving.’ If your heart ain’t pumping after that, you’re already dead.”

“I can handle it. I Peloton every morning.”

“You mean hardly every morning, more like once in a while, when you feel like it, if ever.”

“Aww, come on man. It’s my birthday.”

“No it ain’t. your birthday ain’t for another month yet, if you live that long, the way you eat. Look at these other ingredients, ‘a proprietary blended puree of hair of the dog, cat hair balls, oak galls and pussy willow fur, 90 mg per serving.’ I told you not to eat that junk food for a good reason. I mean, really, you can’t make this stuff up.”

“How about just one? At night, while I’m watching The Bachelorette.” 

“What did I tell you about that show?”

“I can’t help it. I’ve been binge watching that show ever since we went into lockdown last March.”

“Did you ever see what goes into making that show? It’s worse than the stuff that they put in that junk food you wanna eat. Look at the credits, ‘nubile princess mixed with one part gym jock, two thirds suited hunks, and a pinch of Italian Stallion.’ Enough to make anyone really very sick.”

“I do get a little nauseous. But, are you telling me that I have to go on a complete, makeover diet? No junk food? No junk TV?”

“Yes, I am. It’s for your own good. The pandemic is over. You will feel and look so much better, if you get back into pre-pandemic shape.”

“Okay, maybe for my New Year’s resolution.”

“New Years was three months ago.”

“Right, next year, then.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

One thought on “I, Me, Mind by Edward Pontacoloni

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