Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control*

"Sweety, do you want some horsey sauce?"
"What?" His whispey goatee tremored from his turned head.
"Horsey sauce, do you want some horsey sauce?" She posed in her black sweats as though she were talking down to a child.

What an awful name. Why do they call it that? It's called horseradish, why can't they just call it what it is? They might as well call it Pony-Pâté.

...

I'm eating fast food right now. I don't even like fast food, but it's just so cheap, and close, and fast. I'd much rather sit down for an actual meal on a plate, with side dishes and company.

I'm interning at the station. I don't even like TV, but it's always there, and easy, and flashy. I'd much rather go to a movie theater, for a premier with friends.

The girl working at the burger joint smiled at me when she gave my food. I don't know why; her job is awful and I happen to look like the walking dead tonight.

But...

Those are all lies.

Sometimes I like fast food.
Sometimes I like TV.
Sometimes I think people should smile at me.

*Title is an allusion to Errol Morris' very intriguing documentary.