Oh left over curry, why do you taunt me so? I ate so much. I am full to my absolute maximum. This is not a wafer thin mint scenario. I can’t even move with ease. Getting the remote from my feet was more complicated then the most Matt Damon of algorithms.
Yet she sits, in the microwave, festering in her own tandoori bacteria, like a spicy seductress, capable of giving you irritable bowel syndrome, the assholes version of a boner.
Half a saag aloo, a keema rice and a keema naan…. cold, and un-loving, but appealing like a fat girls ass on a winter’s morning.
I have to have it, I’m going for it.
I have been sick. With joy. And sick,
