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rice and walnuts

“I fucking hate rice,” she told me. “And I’m beginning to kinda hate you for loving it.” “Shit,” I said, “what did rice ever do to you?” She opened her purse took out the pack of smokes and fished one out with her lips. “Fuck,” she said, looking for the lighter. “I think I still have the pits in my knees…” “What?” She shrugged. “I was a little girl, alright, and whenever I did something that my dear grandma considered naughty she’d pour raw rice in a corner of the room and make me kneel on it and just stand like that for… I don’t know, hours.” “Really?” “Really!” She blew the smoke in my face. “To this day, bitch still wonders how I could steal her savings from the pension. I didn’t even need the money. I just hated her guts is all. And now I hate rice. And you.” “Well,” I said. “I never stole from my grandma. And to this day I don’t hate walnuts.” “What?” “Yeah, that was my version of the punishment. I knelt on shells of walnuts just like you with the rice. And I don’t hate ’em.” She blew more smoke in my face

rice and walnuts

Categories: Uncategorized

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