You bitch.
You sudden flaming pimple
on the face of this unholy world.
You and you’re holier than thou
“I know better than everyone else”
no-doubt Christian generosity.

You’re the one that put the tub
in the break room,
didn’t you?
You supplied us all with the 900 count
bucket of animal crackers
with that snide suggestive
“Enjoy.”
Goddamn it.
Goddamn you and your Trojan gift.

They sit there, chiding
calling me
– maybe all of us, but certainly me –
summoning me to them
insisting I partake.
I will.
I will eat of the beasts
and I will enjoy
and I will eat some more
and I will enjoy
and I will continue eating
well past joy
well past satiation and satisfaction
fight out their separate meanings in my tum tum
and then I will be sick
but still I will continue.

You did this, Debra.
You made me this way
today
requiring me to eat at least 500 animorphic cookies
– at least!
You have been the source of my downfall
and it was all wrapped in your
evil cauldron of charity.

Well played, Deb,
you monster.
Well played.