The sun was shining and the birds were singing, although they were singing that mainstream corporate birdsong they have now, rather than the real birdsong of your mid to late teens which was definitely not motivated in any way by commercial interests.
‘Oh my god, a food truck!’ said Mary Shelly (not that one). ‘I love how the food is prepared in a truck instead of a kitchen, and yet still costs the same despite the considerable savings on rent and staff!’
‘I know!’ said Virginia Woolf (or that one). ‘And by not providing somewhere for us to eat they don’t just save money, they can serve more customers than a traditional restaurant which is limited by it’s physical seating capacity, without passing any of the savings on to us, the customer!’
‘I’m going to have a simulacrum of fast food made with healthier or more ethical ingredients to convince me I’m a foodie,’ said Mary Shelly.
‘I’m going to have a bland meal from my past and enjoy nostalgia in place of actual flavour,’ said Virginia Woolf.
‘Wait, what’s that falling towards us?’ said Mary Shelly.
The refrigerator hit Virginia Woolf with the full force of a refrigerator dropped from a window forty floors above. (more…)