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“I’m either pregnant or I have food poisoning.”
Talk about a way to say hello, but Erin… she’s an uncouth wench with a foul mouth and an attitude problem. It’s what made me want her to write here, and why I enjoyed her writing on some other site many moons ago.
So, kinda-sorta knowing her as I kinda-sorta do, I decided to assume the worst.
I asked her, “What did you eat?”
Apparently, she had chicken, a salad with feta cheese and Greek dressing. I quickly ruled out the pregnancy theory as she had gone through “the motions” just a week ago, but I’m not a fucking doctor, so what do I know?
She asked, “Is eating chicken cold bad?”
I told her it’s possible, if the food wasn’t prepared right or if it was still contaminated. Fuck, not only am I a doctor, but I’m also a chef!
“It feels just like the time I ate Cajun Cafe when I got back from the Dominican,” she started to groan. “Those fucks poisoned me.”
I didn’t really get a chance to discuss what she was talking about, unfortunately. I’m going to assume she was a victim of food poisoning, or she caught sick off something she ate.
“I think its that time again,” she said before disappearing for the seventh time in the six minute conversation.
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