December 17, 2014
I went over to my friend’s house for dinner the other day. There were four of us and we were looking forward to the meal. You see, my friend is a little bit of a foodie.
So we sat down at the dinner table and on each of our plates was a slice of frozen pizza. We each took a quick glance at each other, but hey, this must be some nouveau-food thing. As I poured myself a glass of grape soda, our host sat down and said “dig in.”
Feeling a little weird, I took a bite of the frozen slab, or I tried to. It was a block of ice. I ground down and my teeth sheared off little plasticy flecks of frozen processed cheese which fell on my shirt. But a little more pressure and snap! The frozen pizza cracked into five or six chunks of ice. One of them lodged in my windpipe and I died.
I should have paid attention to the warning on the box.