School Lunch

Walking into High School in the morning I was always pleased by the smell of the school cafeteria preparing for the onslaught of complaining teenagers who probably really enjoyed it. I didn't share my thoughts at the time. I had a budding social career firmly on the rise and knew better. But in my heart I relished the time when I could use contrived exemptions to excuse myself from going out and plant myself in the lunchroom and eat potato triangles and cheap salisbury steak. I especially enjoyed accepting leftovers from others like miniature cartoned milk and trashy peanut butter, chocolate bars that left a chalky residue. You could buy an extra one for a quarter. Occasionally I would shamelessly bum the money convinced that I was charming if I was blatant. But it didn't matter. I had my peanut butter bar.