I’m eating a plate full of chips, pie and broccoli with so much ketchup on top of it all.
When placing a piece of ketchup-covered broccoli in my mouth, I imagine a dead caterpillar–overcooked, tasting soft. Then I have a chip that resembles a dehydrated insect. Oh, it’s crunchy ends and another hollow leftover cocoon.
Ketchup.
Ketchup makes it all bearable.
I cut the pie open, and a great number of lifeless maggots gush out–covered in white mould or spores. Intermingling with the ketchup. I squeeze more ketchup on top–can’t stop pressing that fucking tube for more goodness.
Ketchup covers everything.
Ketchup covers everything up.
It’s time to take a mouthful.
And another.
And another.
There’s blood running down the side of my mouth.
I must’ve bitten my lip.
