swaggboi

Uhh, starving child? Sorry but I have to inform you that you have been downvoted. I issued this downvote because you said you were a "starving child starving to death." This is redundant and not heckin awesome 100. Please edit your comment and learn to eat.

Greta Thunberg is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the UN climate summit after party. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her on CNN She laughs. I get my drink.

"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Greta Thunberg? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.

Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.

"Got a spare?" she asks.

"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.

"Conversation with me, duh."

I laugh.

"What's so funny?" she protests.

"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"

"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.

"What would you do if you weren't a climate change activist?" I ask.

"Teaching, I think."

"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"

"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"

"Mexico" I say.

"Oh wow. That's lovely."

"It's OK," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."

"What could possibly be not to your liking in Mexico?" she inquires.

"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.