Page 32 of Trust Me

He huffed, but he started tapping his fingers on the counter as he thought about it. “You stole the White House’s supply of Diet Coke.”

I nearly choked on a fry. “That’s not a killable offense.”

“You sure about that?”

“Fine. In your fantasy world, I’m facing a firing squad for absconding with soda. If that’s the case, I definitely want a 64-ouncer of full-sugar Coke, just on principle. And I want a full breakfast.”

“Like, a full English breakfast?”

“Ew, no. That’s foul.”

Shaking his head, he motioned for me to go on.

“Pancakes. The fluffy kind that choke you if you eat them too fast. Real maple syrup, not that corn syrup trash. Crepes with a bunch of berries and whipped cream. Thick, peppered bacon.”

“Lots of sugar, but no coffee?”

“I don’t drink caffeine.”

“Coke has caffeine.”

“Yeah, but I’m drinking that in retaliation, bro. Oh, I need a bowl of cereal.”

“Cereal,” he repeated. “You’re kidding.”

“That might be my favorite food, actually. I love me a big bowl of cereal.”

“Weird.”

“It’s the pinnacle of our society. It might be made of absolute garbage, but just go ahead and call me a trash panda, cause I’ll smash that all day.”

With how much he shook his head, I was starting to wonder if he was a bobblehead. Maybe I’d put him on my dashboard, as long as he was shirtless like that. It’d be the perfect way to start my mornings, along with a bowl of cereal the size of my head.