I don’t know why people hate garlic bread. Just the sheer taste brings out the joy in me. I feel power surging through my veins as I reach for another, and another, and another, until there’s no more bread left to supply for my addiction. By then I’d have ascended to a level past god, past everything, I’d be in a whole nother plane of existence when my mom suplexes me back to Earth and pays the bills. I’ll be back, I know, but when? A day? A week? A month? A year? Two years? Just staying away from that crispy garlic goodness for even three hours pains me, let alone a day or more.