"Girl, you got me worried."
"I'm fine. I have barbecue. Nothing can be wrong when you have barbecue"
"You've spent the last three days eating nothing but pulled pork"
"I can feel your envy."
"Envy this: I cat fished you up a date with vegan boy."
"The only vegan food I like is fries. What the hell can I do with a vegan boy?"
"Ten steps ahead of you. His screen name is 'Papa Frita.'"
"Wait, you REALLY catfished me a date?"
"I'm married. I'm not gonna stop trolling for zipper fish just because I'm no longer on the market. I have a gift."
"There's something wrong with you."
"Ol' Papa Frita's gonna think there's something wrong with you if you don't show up for your date in an hour."
"You're fucking heinous, you know that right?"
----------------------
I saw her walk up.
My first convert.
She was perfect; overweight, greasy complexion, what seemed like a perpetual scowl carved into her face. So much like how I was before I discovered the Lord of the Fries, so much like how I was when I was still in the grip of the spices.
My Ketchup Queen.
"Caroline?"
"Oh god... your real name's not Papa, is it?"
"You can call me Papa if you want."
"That's a little weird."
"Weirder than texting me you wanna lick ranch dressing off my fries?"
"Yeah... well, it was late, and I was drunk..."
"It's fine. Anyways, have you been to this vegan joint, Lord of the Fries?"
"Oh... about that..."
"What about it?"
Caroline pulled a styrofoam container of pulled pork out of her purse.
"I hope you don't mind, but I brought some meat. I can't stand vegan food."
I could smell it through the box.
The Sauce.
Never again. I couldn't let the spices back in to my life. Lord of the Fries had saved me from my spice addiction. What kind of Spice Siren was this?
"It's okay. You already told me how much you love eating sausage."
"Sure you don't want any? I seasoned it myself, extra spicey.
BE STRONG. DON'T LET THE FRIES DOWN. YOU CAN DO THIS.
"No thanks. Pork makes me swell up..." ...in my pants. God that smells good....
I stepped up to the counter.
"Two large fries please."
"Make mine seasoned curly fries."
Seasoning? On FRIES? Was nothing sacred? Was she INSANE?!
I bit my lip. I couldn't let her know.
"Oh gawd... dese ere delmischous," she said around a mouthful of steaming seasonings.
I have to be strong. I can't let her drag me back in. I have Salt Salvation. I have felt the ReFryval in my heart. I.....
"Sure you don't want some?"
"...I would. Those smell great."
Caroline smiled.
I put the steaming fries in my mouth, and instantly realized my mistake. My tolerance for spices was a fraction of what it was before. The sensation was like a warm kiss inside my mouth, sending a pulsating glow to my very core. How could I ever give this feeling up? How could I ever....
She flipped over her styrofoam container, her plain, unpainted lips still smiling as she sprinkled sauce slathered pork into my fries.
"So I figure if I'm gonna lick ranch sauce off your fries, the least you could do is put a little of my loose meat in your mouth..."
Her short bitten fingers picked up a mixture of pork and potato, with just touch of forbidden sauce, and waved in front of my face.
I can't....
I want...
I...
I...
-------
"So, how was the Fry Guy?"
"Let's just say I slathered my sauce all over his chin."
"I told you, girl."
"Jaleesa?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember how last time you did this I said never do this again?"
"Yeah."
"Don't do it again just like last time, okay? I'm starting to like this stuff."
This is a song about death. It's on mandolin.
Hate is the first step to all solutions.
You will not end bigotry until you learn to hate it.
