This morning I rushed to the Byte before my 10:55 class like I do most Fridays. Although I was irked that the line was so long and no one let me move up despite my obvious rushing, I stayed in line to purchase a blueberry muffin. Normally, that shit is delicious. Moist, flavorful, and full of blue bubbling berries. When I arrived to the counter, Sol’s lovely face asked me if I wanted anything from the counter. I asked her if she had any blueberry muffins. She began to tell me that they only had the one in the case. Let me tell you about that case. Before this week, those pastries used to sit on a pastry rack in front of customers to breathe on, sneeze on, and put hexes on. Maybe I could get over those things; just take an Airborne afterwards and I’ll be good. What I can’t get over, what I absolutely can’t take a pill for, is the dry ass, wretched ass, clinging to my throat ass pastries that they try to sell. No, no, no, reach down and gimme one out of the drawer. Don’t try to sell me a dry ass muffin for $ 3.25 then act like I’m pretentious when I scrunch up my face and say “Naw.” Because in all honesty people, in all honesty, that shit is gross.