At the edge of universal sanity lies a large chunk of chocolate cake. Seemingly enjoyable, but ultimately quite a bad idea.
It began innocently enough with a cup of vegetable soup. A good start, but a better meal. I didn't know about the pizza at the time. I thought I had no choice but to eat somberly alone in the underbelly of the grandest of Grand Central Stations. It was late and who knows when I'd have the chance again. Besides, a nice bowl of soup never killed anyone.
Then the edible tangent began. I'm not sure who invented pizza, but they almost certainly invented Crack as well. One piece, two piece, three piece, four. Ok, actually it was only 3, and they were small square ones, but the damage was done.
Had I not had the pizza, the cake would most certainly not have happened. Yet there I was, felling that last hunk of cake onto my plate like a giant sequoia. Five minutes and 13 bites passed before I realized how much of an idiot I am.
Apparently I had eaten the cake along with my common sense. Now I'm just the remnants of a big slice of regret.
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