Great. Because I have the word Israel in my post, I'll get the usual rounds of NSA and other alphabet intelligence agencies snooping around doing threat assessment. Seconds after posting this, I'll have bomb-sniffing dogs up my digital butt crack, looking for some sleeper cell faithful to the Ayatollah.
"I-a tole ya not to use trigger words, didn't I, son?"
Yeah, you did. Regardless, I have to report on a dream I had the other night starring the deceased Hawaiian ukulele player, so I'm sorry to all of you affected operatives for the inconvenience. Sometimes a burrito is just a burrito.
Anyway, it wasn't much of a dream to speak of. Israel and I were lying around on his twin bed, and I got up to leave. There was a sense that we'd been intimate, but I'm not copping to that, since I don't have a recollection of any graphic events. But that didn't stop him from acting put out and hurt that I was leaving him there in his twin bed all alone.
"I'm sorry, Israel, but I just don't think it's going to work out," I told him. "I'm just not thinking of you in a relationship kind of way."
I put my clothes on and left the apartment, only to encounter him again down in the mess hall. Apartments don't usually have chow halls, but this one did. They were serving wet burritos, but they'd run out of flatware, so I had to have mine served to me on a piece of construction paper.
"Better make it two," I said, noting that Israel had crept up behind me.
Two sloppy burritos landed safely on my flimsy, makeshift paper rescue net despite being dropped from considerable height by the server. It was a heroic catch, but entirely unnecessary, as they could have just as easily placed them on there gently.
I fashioned the paper into a cone and funneled one of the burritos off into a bowl for Israel. That ought to get him off my back for a while, I thought.
I kinda felt bad for him, being all puppy-dog glommy on me like that, but really, I hadn't done anything to make him fall in love with me. He was just a sappy guy by nature, nothing I could do about that. Except to maybe give him my other burrito which he also seemed to be lusting after.
Nah.
Despite his teary-eyed pleas, I held my ground. I felt that one burrito was more than sufficient, and besides, what's love got to do, got to do with it?
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.