Motsu
REROCK: Change The World
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2020
- Messages
- 1,108
- Points
- 153
Imagine, you're really hungry because you woke up late for work and had to skip breakfast. A busy day at the office, there's no time to even get your morning coffee in. Ten o clock... Eleven o clock... Twelve o clock rolls around and you're excited to get some lunch. But your boss reaches over and pulls you into an important meeting that you forgot you agreed to be in. There goes your lunch hour. It's 2 o clock... the lingering odor of your co-worker's pasta they ordered from the place next door somehow reaches your nose. Someone's half-eaten burger sits in the trash can. There's no time to eat... you have a project deadline inching closer and closer, and you can't mess this up.
Your lady messages you, hypes you up through texts and phone calls that you're gonna get a nice, big, unforgettable meal when you come home. Five o clock rolls around...The loving man you are, you purposely skip out on buying a bag of chips from the vending machine on your way out, as you don't want to ruin your appetite. You drive another hour and a half through rush hour traffic, simply starving, even breathing feels hard. But all you can feel is the excitement of a home-cooked dinner waiting for you at home. Pork chops? Mashed potatoes? Filet Mignon?
You step in through the front door, wondering when the first scent of chicken, beef, or maybe even lamb will waft its way into your nostrils. You step into the kitchen and there is no scent, the stove looks stone cold. You see your lady, your stomach gurgling loudly at this point, your legs barely supporting your body weight. She looks over, reaches not for the spatula, nor the pan, nor the fridge door. She reaches for the hairdryer that should be in your bathroom, not the kitchen. She says "let me warm up your dinner for you" and proceeds to stick the hairdryer under her dress. Your stomach screams. Your eyes tear up. You regret not buying that bag of chips before leaving the office. Everything is pain. Your legs feel like jelly and your abdomen like fire. It's only a Monday. She looks at you and smiles, hairdryer has been turned off... She whispers... "now... get to work".
Your lady messages you, hypes you up through texts and phone calls that you're gonna get a nice, big, unforgettable meal when you come home. Five o clock rolls around...The loving man you are, you purposely skip out on buying a bag of chips from the vending machine on your way out, as you don't want to ruin your appetite. You drive another hour and a half through rush hour traffic, simply starving, even breathing feels hard. But all you can feel is the excitement of a home-cooked dinner waiting for you at home. Pork chops? Mashed potatoes? Filet Mignon?
You step in through the front door, wondering when the first scent of chicken, beef, or maybe even lamb will waft its way into your nostrils. You step into the kitchen and there is no scent, the stove looks stone cold. You see your lady, your stomach gurgling loudly at this point, your legs barely supporting your body weight. She looks over, reaches not for the spatula, nor the pan, nor the fridge door. She reaches for the hairdryer that should be in your bathroom, not the kitchen. She says "let me warm up your dinner for you" and proceeds to stick the hairdryer under her dress. Your stomach screams. Your eyes tear up. You regret not buying that bag of chips before leaving the office. Everything is pain. Your legs feel like jelly and your abdomen like fire. It's only a Monday. She looks at you and smiles, hairdryer has been turned off... She whispers... "now... get to work".
