This hits. Here's why: Me. 9 or 10. Finds a styrofoam tray on the counter filled with BBQ sauce. Grabs it. Pours it into my mouth. It's NOT BBQ SAUCE. IT'S BEEF JUICE/BLOOD and my grandma CAN'T STOP laughing. *gags*. Manages not to vomit.
I forgot to title this short "my relationship (break up?) with meat".
When I was little, my dad had a bottle of Dr. Pepper in his hand, and I asked for a drink. He said sure and handed it to me. IT WASN'T DR. PEPPER! IT WAS HIS DIP SPIT! It was so nasty. I wonder why we don't have a good relationship.
I forgot to title this short "my relationship (break up?) with meat".