I’m not a vegan. I’m not even a vegetarian. My mother is but I’ve never found the idea of dietary restrictions very appealing, especially because I’m a poor college student and fiction author. Hey, I’ve gotta take what I can get. However, I have a lot of friends who have recently gone vegan and they have shared delicious meals with me…and a riding crop.
You see, every Tuesday, I go to my friend Claresse’s house to do laundry so we can chill out. It beats going to alumni quad and dealing with picky chicken heads who don’t think their clothing is dry even if it’s brittle as hell from being dried too long or shelling out $5 per load at the laundry mat. Being in the company of friends is always, always better.
So, yesterday night, Claresse and her roommate, Abe, tirelessly baked gluten-free vegan pizza and macaroni and cheese. It was so good that if I didn’t know the food was vegan, I’d have thought it was real cheese. When she was done with her portion and Abe was finishing up in the kitchen, we decided to pass the time by reading an issue of Stockroom, a full-fledged BDSM catalog. Her roommate came out into the living room to let us know that dinner was ready.
He walked over to us to glance a peek at the magazine then asked if I wanted a riding crop, noting that as a vegan, he really didn’t feel comfortable owning anything made out of leather. Since my old riding crop was most likely stolen by a former roommate, I ecstatically agreed.
At the table, we continued reading the male chastity belt section while munching on vegan pizza. Her roommate, Abe, shuttered upon viewing the metal monstrosity known only as “The Gates of Hell”. I’ll let you Google that, if you want.
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