Spam

The lunch lady at school has nicknamed me "No Thank You" because I'm constantly turning down any sea food based slop she or her crew serve. On fish days she comes over and inspects the empty sections of my tin tray carrying a long face. She then tells the other teachers how guilty she feels that I'll be hungry. Again this month she's taken it upon herself to fry up thick slices of canned Spam just for me. I have no heart to tell her Spam is 100 times worse a fate than any fish she could send my way.

I use every ounce of energy to not show my disgust as I chew away on the spam. It works out best if I can eat it all down in less than three bites. Anymore and the texture and salty taste of the stuff reminds me of what I'm eating setting off my gag reflexes. I also let my mom's voice take over in my head counting out the total number of bites it will take to work my way through the pile of spam. If I'm lucky there is a sauce I can dip the stuff in but this is rare. Why people choose to eat this stuff is beyond me.