octochicken

At the cafeteria entrance are two lines. The line was backed up with hundreds of people. Not both lines, just one. The other didn't have a line. Slightly embarrassed to walk past so many hungry people I took my place in the non-existent line. Under my breath I snickered at those who were so dependent on following peer pressure and grabbed a tray to receive my portion of chicken and potatoes cooked in tomato sauce with black olives. As the chicken was raised to my tray it twitched and spurted and turned into the arm from an octopus. Not one to let a single tentacle ruin my day, I threw it in the trash and went back to my tent for a nap. A siesta is always the right way to end a story.