There have been many great battles and wars in history, Gettysburg, WW I and II, Vietnam, and Desert Storm, but no one has been stuck in the type of trenches that I have been in for the past week.
I found myself alone on a battlefield surrounded by the charred carcasses of armored Mexican food trucks and other equipment, discarded pizza boxes and whataburger wrappers, and a dessert floor stained with what appears to be either spaghetti or strawberry sauce facing my ultimate enemy. Stephanie
To be honest, I can still hear the faint sound of ice cream trucks, some distance away, calling to me in the wind. It will haunt my dreams forever.
The day the war started began just like any other day. Birds were chirping, the air was clean, and people were nice and polite to each other. But that all would change on Wednesday, November 2, 2011.
The lunch war started when Stephanie began to received catered lunches at her new office from sales representatives of drug companies. She told me about it and I thought it would occur a couple times a month. I was wrong. This free lunch would occur 2 to 3 times a week, every week. I was immediately jealous.
My lunch either consisted of what I ate the night before, a sandwich with a fruit cup and some fig newtons, or, if I was lucky, a hamburger from the Asian diner in my office. It was clear from the start that I was on the losing end of this battle.
We fought for many weekdays from the hours of 11:30 am to 1:15 pm. Everyday I had to endure Stephanie's tales of delicious Babe's Chicken, tasty Black Eye Pea, and heavenly dishes from Olive Garden. I sulked as I ate my mediocre turkey sandwich.
Then one faithful day came, my luck started to change. As Stephanie was eating left overs, I was consuming the greatest meal ever: The steak: a ribeye; the whiskey: lagavulin 16; the lady sitting next me: the bitch. Specifically my ex co worker Bettie. She decided to drop by for unannounced visit from Hell.
As word spread to Stephanie that I started to gather some steam and win several days worth of the lunch war in a row, she became scared and frightened but vowed for me never to win again. Then she yelled "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE HIGHLANDER"
As I waited for Stephanie to attack me again with another free 5 start lunch, I found one of her previous victims with a note attached to his hand. This is what it said:
Its dangerous out here my love. The general has me and the boys stationed
outside of a 7-11 right now protecting the Slurpee's and what we think are hot
dogs. We are tired and scared. I'm not sure if we have enough Sushi rations for the evening. Morale is low. Tim Timberland lost his leg in a McRib explosion yesterday and one of us has to tell his wife Judith. She shant be happy to hear that news. My love, when a man is out here on the diabetic battlefield in dangerous surroundings, the only thing he can do is hold your 7 orders of 99 cent tacos from Jack In the Box close to his chest. And thoughts for my love for the all you can eat pancakes special at IHOP developed in my soul and they sustain me. Should I not make it back alive, tell the kids I died a winner at the Atomic Spicy Hot Wing Challenge in Fort Worth.
After reading that note, I hope I survive at least a couple more lunches before she wins.
I found myself alone on a battlefield surrounded by the charred carcasses of armored Mexican food trucks and other equipment, discarded pizza boxes and whataburger wrappers, and a dessert floor stained with what appears to be either spaghetti or strawberry sauce facing my ultimate enemy. Stephanie
To be honest, I can still hear the faint sound of ice cream trucks, some distance away, calling to me in the wind. It will haunt my dreams forever.
The day the war started began just like any other day. Birds were chirping, the air was clean, and people were nice and polite to each other. But that all would change on Wednesday, November 2, 2011.
The lunch war started when Stephanie began to received catered lunches at her new office from sales representatives of drug companies. She told me about it and I thought it would occur a couple times a month. I was wrong. This free lunch would occur 2 to 3 times a week, every week. I was immediately jealous.
My lunch either consisted of what I ate the night before, a sandwich with a fruit cup and some fig newtons, or, if I was lucky, a hamburger from the Asian diner in my office. It was clear from the start that I was on the losing end of this battle.
We fought for many weekdays from the hours of 11:30 am to 1:15 pm. Everyday I had to endure Stephanie's tales of delicious Babe's Chicken, tasty Black Eye Pea, and heavenly dishes from Olive Garden. I sulked as I ate my mediocre turkey sandwich.
Then one faithful day came, my luck started to change. As Stephanie was eating left overs, I was consuming the greatest meal ever: The steak: a ribeye; the whiskey: lagavulin 16; the lady sitting next me: the bitch. Specifically my ex co worker Bettie. She decided to drop by for unannounced visit from Hell.
As word spread to Stephanie that I started to gather some steam and win several days worth of the lunch war in a row, she became scared and frightened but vowed for me never to win again. Then she yelled "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE HIGHLANDER"
As I waited for Stephanie to attack me again with another free 5 start lunch, I found one of her previous victims with a note attached to his hand. This is what it said:
Its dangerous out here my love. The general has me and the boys stationed
outside of a 7-11 right now protecting the Slurpee's and what we think are hot
dogs. We are tired and scared. I'm not sure if we have enough Sushi rations for the evening. Morale is low. Tim Timberland lost his leg in a McRib explosion yesterday and one of us has to tell his wife Judith. She shant be happy to hear that news. My love, when a man is out here on the diabetic battlefield in dangerous surroundings, the only thing he can do is hold your 7 orders of 99 cent tacos from Jack In the Box close to his chest. And thoughts for my love for the all you can eat pancakes special at IHOP developed in my soul and they sustain me. Should I not make it back alive, tell the kids I died a winner at the Atomic Spicy Hot Wing Challenge in Fort Worth.
After reading that note, I hope I survive at least a couple more lunches before she wins.
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