Bad fast food. It’s 10pm, you’re finally heading back home after a treacherous day at the office, and all you want to do is sit back with your favorite Teletubby episodes and grab something delicious for dinner on the way home. With your precious greasy cargo in tow, you plop down on the sofa and gleefully unwrap the neon green plastic wrap. Your slackjawed attention squarely on the screen in front of you, you barely glance at the slop in your hand. You’re rudely awakened from your reverie, however, when you suddenly discover that your “fresh” roast beef on rye suspiciously tastes like four-week old moldy salmon. Gag.
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