Tiffanie pan fries a bug and decides to talk in third person. She feels queasy and decides to eat carrots and blueberries the rest of the day.

Washing dishes was out of the question. All the pans were dirty (trust me, there are a lot of pans) and the only pan that was left was the pan that’s used for camping. I pull it out, turn on the heat, pour some oil, grab some eggs from the fridge, crack the eggs, admire the sizzle and pop of poached eggs, and…

There’s a bug frantically running along the edge of the pan. It runs and runs, until it hits the hot oil.

Pop goes the weasel.


There will be no more eating of cooked things today.


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