remember

sold

it was one of those surreal moments where everything stops. at dinner last night, there's a man at the table across the room, over six feet tall and sturdily built, surrounded by ten of his friends. he stands suddenly. in an eerie silence, everyone around him stands suddenly. the man next to him wraps his arms around his midsection and thrusts his fists in. his wife holds her face, pursed in fear. he wraps his arms around more tightly still, and thrusts again. out comes a hunk of bread, shot across the room like a baseball. the choking man stops choking, slumps down in his chair, a long string of drool hanging from his chin. everyone sits, and tries to exhale. his wife gingerly wipes his face, his brow. a few awkward minutes go by, the man looks around the room, embarrassed. everyone in the room pretends they didn't even notice, and go on with their dinners. dessert comes. life goes on.

dear friends: remember to chew.