It was a typical Wednesday and the school bells
were ringing for lunch to commence. My friends and I all gathered
together and after three minutes of light quarreling we concluded
that Taco Bell would be the destination of choice for lunch. We
arrived and ordered, each of my friends ordering overcooked meaty
morsels, and I ordering a safe, flesh-free, seven-layer burrito.
School lunch lasted thirty minutes and because we had chosen the
slowest fast food restaurant in town, we had to rush back to school
with our uneaten grub in our hands.
We arrived back and dispersed into our different
four-walled asylum-like classrooms to eat our lunch. I ripped
into my burrito with uncontrollable hunger, inhaling the tortilla-wrapped
concoction so quickly that I was unable to savor its flavor. Midway
through the seven-layer wonder I was abruptly interrupted when
I bit into a solid fragment of my food. Unable to chew through
the morsel, and uninterested in doing so, I spit the foreign object
into my hand to familiarize myself with its content. Out it came:
a fuzzy slimy, malachite green, long and hard substance. Upon
further investigation I realized that I had bitten into a halfway
Up until this moment I had been sitting quietly
in a stagnant history course, but at the time of my discovery
my stomach began to rage and I jumped from my seat and ran across
the room and into the hallway. I instantaneously evacuated the
eaten portion of the burrito, and some of my earlier breakfast,
from my body and into the nearest waste receptacle. Once my convulsions
stabilized, I was able to go to a restroom where I spent the remainder
of the day.
Since this traumatic food experience, I have found myself dissecting everything that has been prepared by a second party, even frozen tv dinners. It is bewildering how one sickening food incident have lead to multiple abnormal eating rituals. These rituals include cutting wrapped foods into tiny pieces, stirring beans and pasta in search of foreign objects, and taking entire sandwiches apart and reassembling them. My slimy bone experience has shaped my phobia of food into what it is today.