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Monday, October 6, 2014

Atheistjustin Writes A Paper for Creative Writing

I take a creative writing class for college because I am a white person. I like this class since being creative and making words is something I excel in. As we have just left our poetry unit, we are now entering into the 'short story' unit.

It is with this unit that I will share to you, my faithful readers and stalkers, the short stories I have written for class.

Here is one such story.

Justin Hawthorne
Professor XXXXX
Creative Writing

I Just Wanted Chipotle

            I’ve been eating food for 18 years. For 18 years, I have had bottles of formula, steak, ice-cream, bacon, brisket, Chinese food, French food, Italian food, Indian food, American cuisine, the most expensive meals from New York restaurants, the most inexpensive delicacies of the neighborhood’s McDonald’s, the packaged, plastic meals distributed in mass by conveyor belts, and the natural roots stemming from the earth’s soils. I have more experience eating food than anything else. Even when it comes to sex, something I enjoy a great deal, I hold almost no information when I compare it to my knowledge of food. It’s not that I’m obsessed with food or anything; I just think we could all say that we’re adept in what we like to eat more than anything else.
            Though there are so many delicious combinations of meats, vegetables, grains, and fruits, there is a style of food I cannot resist. It is an evil obsession; it is a craving that has no fulfillment. It is the holy lust of Zeus- it is the never ending ocean of Poseidon- it is the bottomless pit of Hade’s underworld. It is Chipotle. It is the greatest food to ever grace the planet. It possesses my heart and body like a lover holds their soul mate.
            When I woke up on Thursday morning of a September day, I had no idea that this craving, this lust, would strike me so significantly. I found myself in the bathroom upon my awakening, totally uninformed of the obsession I would have later. This day struck me as completely ordinary at first. I showered, I shaved, I popped those damned pimples on my forehead, and I scraped fluoride-drenched bristles across my teeth.
            I went back into my dorm room to find my roommate still sleeping. This is unsurprising since he’s the quintessential bum in college. I mean seriously, he sleeps all fucking day and when he goes out all he does is sit at this table in the courtyard of the quads and smoke pot with this group of kids I only see when it’s dark out. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a fine lad and all, but I don’t know how in the hell he’s going to pass this semester. Anyway, he was asleep and so I went to the dining hall alone again.
            Its kind of depressing eating by yourself, especially when you look out and see those long tables all full of people who you know just met a week ago. Well, there I was, sitting by myself at one of those tiny two-seating tables. I had coffee, bacon, eggs, a bagel- you know, all the usual breakfast items. I took a bite of something and it just made me ill. It was a sick, sad, unsatisfying flavor in my mouth. And as I swallowed, and the lump of whatever hit the edge of my stomach, I felt the craving.
            I had to get Chipotle. I cannot explain this sensation in any other form of words but I simply had to get Chipotle. Oh, how I could taste the chicken and brown rice tickle the edge of my tongue as the guacamole and cheese cascaded down my throat. I got up from the dining hall and left. I headed to the bus stop to get onto the LX to take me to College Ave. Once there, I would take the merry little walk over to George Street and find myself inside of that gorgeously wonderful establishment.
            There I sat, waiting for what the screen said 5 minutes. I hadn’t my headphones to preoccupy me so I sat there staring at my phone screen analyzing the Yik-Yaks as they passed down my feed. 5 minutes passed and the bus still did not come. I grew agitated as other busses came - the EE, the F, the H, busses I didn’t even know existed but the damned LX was still not present. I began to sweat- 10 minutes had gone by. I frivolously refreshed my phone screen hoping to find some sort of Yik-Yak that could explain what was going on but alas! I was dumbfounded, heart-broken, and agitated. Where was this vehicle? Finally, after 15 minutes the giant found its way to the student center. The doors opened, a flood of horny college students fell out, and I whisked myself on the bus.
            The driver decided to take a 5-minute break, which made the vein in my forehead pop out, violently, but hey, whatever I guess. What’s five 5 more minutes when that sweet baby burrito is about to be tin-foil-wrapped in your arms? He got back on after 6 minutes and 12 seconds (but hey whose counting) and we ventured forth. We stopped at the quads momentarily to pick up any other college-avenue-goers and continued on our way. Oh yes, there were some blocks in the way but nothing could stop us now- what was that noise?
            Oh no.
            The bus began to shake violently and the sounds of a dying engine became apparent. The bus began to break down on the side of Route 18. My soul was crushed and I was less concerned about the possibility that we could get into a high-speed collision and die than I was about no longer being able to get to Chipotle. The bus pulled to the side and we exited. We stood there in the chilled September air looking at each other in wonder- what were we to do? According to the driver, assistance was on its way and would arrive “shortly.” Well sir, what exactly is “shortly” to you because your break was supposed to be 5-minutes and oh-no it wasn’t was it?! No, your break was a grueling 6 minutes and 12 seconds and that is just inexcusable and no, sir, I don’t time to wait for what you deem “shortly” I need to get some god damn Chipotle.
            I ran. I ran like Usain Bolt on meth. The exit for George street was just another mile and the severe pain in my chest and thighs would go away as soon as the guacamole graced my lips. Cars passed by as perplexed drivers beeped in surprise. I’m sorry Honda Civic, but you’re going to have to slam on your breaks because I need to get across this fucking highway to get that exit, to get to that Chipotle. Amazingly, someone pulled up to my side and asked if I wanted a lift. Since I was on the verge of collapsing, I decided it was probably safer and faster to accept this man’s offer.
            I went inside and he told me his name was Keith. I told him, “I don’t give a shit what you’re name is Kevin, I need to get some Chipotle right now or some bad shit is going to happen.” He said something like, “my name’s Keith... please don’t curse... put your penis back in your pants” or something, I don’t remember. Anyway, we took off and god damn it, Kyle was a slow driver but whatever. 40 miles per hour was probably faster than I was running anyway. There was the exit: I saw it in beautiful big letters. George Street. I could taste it- I could smell that baby of Mexican grill being born in the back of the Heavens.
            Kendrick asked me where I wanted to get dropped off and I must have shouted violently, or something, because his face was half-appalled when I told him Chipotle. We were on George Street. The city atmosphere excited me and it felt as if my nipples were going to erupt. I was almost there. All this fucking waiting- it was almost finally over. That sweet Chipotle was all mine. I saw the letters “C, H, and I” and opened the car door and sprinted out. Kurt screamed something like, “what the fuck?” but I had no time to focus on such small details. I saw the building. It was right there. I crossed the road; I didn’t even think to look twice and-
            Bam. A sharp pain permeated its way across the right side of my body. Darkness. I arose 11 hours later, unsure of where I was. Apparently, I had been hit by a car and was in serious critical condition and the hospital staff was unsure of my recovery or chance of survival. For reasons unknown, that asshole God decided to let me live and keep me in this hospital for 6 to 8 more weeks where I will have to eat this tasteless, soulless, dog-food. My parent’s visited me yesterday and what was the one thing I wanted them to bring? Do you think it was the wedding invitation they got in the mail for my aunt Kathleen? No, it fucking wasn’t the wedding invitation. It was Chipotle and they forgot it. They forgot it- do you hear me? They forgot to bring me the joy that put me in this hospital in the first place.

            I sit here now, with a shattered hip and highly fractured leg, thinking about that day. Remembering every detail of it makes me want to sob hysterically. I just wanted Chipotle.


  1. This is my favorite story you've ever written, even though the mere thought of you laying in a hospital bed makes me cringe!!!

  2. Fabulous piece! I actually laughed out loud. ��


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