Bitch, why did you eat my cornbread? You knew good and god damn well that shit was mine. I went to the grocery store, picked out the mix, gingerly poured it in the pan, and waited for it to cook. It smelled so good and it was crispy on the ends. Just the way I liked it.

I thought it would be safe to place on the counter so it’d cool off before I ate it. But when I came back, all of it was gone. You ate my cornbread. I hate you. Now I have no cornbread to eat. What gave you the right to take away what was mine? What gave you the right to starve me from sustenance? You bitch. I hate you.