My Guilty Secret

Culture Food

 

My dearest Solomans,

You’ve been my one and only since freshers’. I cemented our love with a loyalty card, each smiley stamp bringing a sense of achievement I have yet to experience in other aspects of my life. But I have a confession. I didn’t mean to do what I did, you have to understand- I was alone and hungry. These were desperate times. Anyone would have done the same. I was stumbling back from Bridge, and as you know, the smell of other people’s sweat always works up an appetite. I fumble around in my pockets. No change. Heart sinking, I’m forced to make the long journey back the worst way possible… foodless. But what’s this? I see a girl in front of me, swaying as she forces chips into her mouth. I watch in horror as a whole chicken nugget drops to the floor. I couldn’t let it go to waste, could I? A few glances behind me. All clear. No one should have to witness this. Quickly, quickly- everyone knows that the nasty germs have to wait three seconds. There’s still time. One final glance behind. I snatch up the goods, cradling my prize. It’s gloriously warm, the batter relatively untainted from its brief contact with St Giles’. The coating golden, insides moist. It’s a prime example of a good nugget, which is what I would expect from your fine establishment, Solomans. I drift off into a deep, peaceful, guiltfree sleep.

 

“It’s a prime example of a good nugget, which is what I would expect from your fine establishment, Solomans.”

 

The next morning, I can’t get that nugget out of my mind. The golden coating that once enticed me now haunts me. I need to eat it again. As soon as darkness falls, I make my way to your van, coins jingling in my pocket. Just chicken nuggets, please. The chips only get in the way. At last, you hand them over. I flip back the lid, full of nervous anticipation. These nuggets look different somehow. They aren’t the same shape as the one yesterday. I gobble them down anyway, hoping I’ve misremembered. However, my disappointment is soon replaced with something much worse. Those nuggets were nothing like my precious. Their shape- all wrong! Coating greasy, not crispy! Insides like chicken flavoured sawdust! Almost as if my precious was from somewhere else… no, it can’t be! I wouldn’t have done it if I knew, Solomans- you have to believe me. I didn’t know it was from there. I don’t feel guilty for eating a nugget off the floor. No, it’s worse than that. This hot feeling of shame I’m feeling is all because I realise the nugget was from Hussein’s instead.

 

I only hope you can forgive me,

 

From someone who loves you.

 

Image credit – my_amii