The Bloody Doors Off

What the fuck am I even doing here?

Graphic designer, playwright, occasional asshole

Are you a cannibal, or a can’tibal?

I craved chocolate pudding.

There was none.

There was, however, strawberry yogourt.

So I ate it.

My taste buds kept asking where the chocolate was.

The interloper was spoiling everything.

I wasn’t expecting such a visceral reaction from a body part.

This train of thought never left the station, did it?