So it’s getting on in hours, and SPOOFE gets hungry. So SPOOFE goes downstairs to the refrigerator, telling himself, “I will not have a snack. I need to lose weight. I’m a giant sack of roiling flab.” However, his belly and his brain compromise, and he resolves only to have a bit o’ cheddar cheese with some Tapatio hot sauce.
He retrieves the block of cheddar, only to find underneath it a package of pepperoni. For some reason, pepperoni slices seems like a very, VERY spiffy snack. But a debate goes on in SPOOFE’s head.
BRAIN: “But you promised that you’d have the cheese, and that’s it!”
BELLY: “But, Brain… pepperoni! I didn’t know it was there! C’mon, it’s a SMALL pack!”
BRAIN: “It’s gonna give me weird dreams! It’ll make it impossible for me to fall asleep! Shut up, we’re not eating pepperoni!”
BELLY: “C’mon, you selfish bastard, what about all the times I wind up getting sick when YOU want to get drunk, huh? That one time I had to hold on to that crappy generic $5 vodka? Huh? Huh?!?”
BRAIN: “Those were extenuating circumstances… and I didn’t need to be awake at 8:00 AM!”
BELLY: “Oh, you you you. It’s all about you, isn’t it? What about my needs? You never give me what I need! I need pepperoni!”
BRAIN: “Fine, FINE! You can have the fucking pepperoni! But with God as my witness, you sure as hell better not puke after just four drinks the next time I go out binging!”
BELLY: “Maybe if you weren’t such a cheapskate, you could buy better liquor.”
BRAIN: “Would you shut up?!? Do you really want Colon and Spleen to start up?”
BELLY: “All right, as long as I get my pepperoni…”
So I ate pepperoni, and have signed my willpower away yet again. Tomorrow it’s probably gonna be raw cookie dough.
BELLY: “Mmm… cookie dough… I believe there’s some of THAT in the fridge…”
BRAIN: “Jesus Christ, SPOOFE, why the hell did you have to remind him?!? I’m getting too old for this shit.”
And now I’m going downstairs to eat raw cookie dough. And maybe drink a soda.
BRAIN: “Fuck. Anybody need a brain?”