Letter to Sam

Remember that time we threw the "Welcome Back Ivan" party at your place and I cooked a turkey dinner? Remember how Ivan watched the pay-per-view boxing match instead? Remember how upset I got that the party sucked and nobody showed any appreciation for the turkey dinner? And how I left early and went back to my apartment? Do you know what happened after that? Chris, Al and Herb showed up an hour later and said they ordered a Dominos pizza. I thought they were joking. That was just a year after I marched on Washington carrying a "Nobody Likes Dominos" sign. Mere months after my domestic terrorism against Dominos on campus. But no, they weren't joking, they truly ordered Dominos to be delivered to MY home. Do you know how hurt I was? It was like Chris and Al didn't know me. I put my soul into a turkey dinner which they accepted and consumed and . . . absolutely nothing. To them it was just another tasty meal on par with a Dominos fucking pizza. I yelled, "How dare you fuckers bring right-wing Dominos into MY home. GET OUT!" Rarely a day goes by when I don't experience that same twinge of disbelief and pain. You think I'm still talking about Dominos, don't you?