Bleeding Fiction

In a show of generosity towards me (and spite towards her teenage daughter, who was being obnoxious), one of my co-workers gave me a chicken-caesar sandwich she'd bought at Wegmans. I was leaving work hella late today and was hella hungry. Also, I am not a wasteful man, you see, so I did not turn the sandwich down.

Oh, how I regret my efficiency!

The sandwich was riddled with tiny bacon bits. I didn't realize this until I was 3/4 of the way through the sandwich.

I am allergic to pork, you may recall. And bacon is made of pork!

I have been feeling ill for most of the night.

I'm reminded of a similar event, a few months back, when Marie poisoned me... I survived that time (though the emotional damage was crippling), and I'll survive this one.

But my stomach hurts.