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“My pastries are fucking INCREDIBLE, Gordon. And frankly, you should feel blessed for them having caressed your tastebuds.”
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I’d take a deep breath and say nothing.
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I would apologize for my wrong doing and tell him how stupid my armpits are.
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I’d slap those slices of bread away from my head because HOW DISRESPECTFUL.
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I would take myself to my happy place so I don’t start crying.
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I’d call myself an idiot sandwich because I’m obviously being an idiot sandwich.
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I would throw my hands up in defeat and just walk the fuck out of that hell hole.
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I would lower my head out of fear of further insults.
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I’d respond with, “I think you’re being sarcastic, but, yes, I would like a medal if that’s on the table.”
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“Fuck you, you’re the panini head.”
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I’d nod but secretly hope he’d stop yelling soon.
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“Sir, yes, sir!”
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“I’M NOT A VIRGIN.”
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*gulp*
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“I…I…I know.”
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Mumble indecent words under your breath so he knows that you’re talking about him but he doesn’t know what you’re saying.
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Start crying because your whole life is centered around food and you don’t know what to do with your life anymore.
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“I’m so sorry for whatever I did wrong. I am useless.”
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“No. Fuck no. This is the final straw. You will not threaten to put pumpkin up my butt. I’M OUT OF HERE.”
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Finally lift up your head and say, “Seriously, you need to chill out.”
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“Diced, please.”
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