Saved By Cheese
MEDICAL EMERGENCY.
By the time we were back from school, the acid in my stomach was eating at its walls. Only one word could describe this feeling:
STARVING.
I should’ve paid more attention to the lack of fullness from this morning’s breadsticks. I’d briefly thought, “maybe I should eat something else, too.” But, I thought, school isn’t that long.
When hungry, that time becomes eternity.
It was already 4 PM, but I couldn’t wait for dinner. I needed something large; I needed it NOW.
I attacked an old stand-by: Farm Rich Cheese Sticks.
A perfect choice. The bag was large and hadn’t been opened. I could cook however many I needed. Fifteen minutes of pre-heating and cooking flew by in anticipation.
As a special trick, I always kick the oven up to “broil” for the last minute of cooking. The effect was superb.
Ten perfectly-cooked cheese sticks. Gorgeous.
I didn’t bother with dipping sauce. I had no fucking time for that shit. I wolfed down those sticks like I was at death’s door, which indeed I had to if I wanted to eat that many without the cheese getting hard.
It was a glorious large snack. Saved by cheese, I felt excellent.
