The macaroni's soggy the peas are mushed and the chicken tastes like wood. So you try to play it off like you think you can by saying that you're full, then your friend says, "Mama, he's just being polite he ain't finished, uh-uh, that's bull. So your heart starts pumping and you think of a lie and you say that you already ate. And your friend says "Man, there's plenty of food" so you pile some more on your plate. While the stinky food's steaming your mind starts to dreaming of the moment that it's time to leave. Then you look at your plate and your chicken's slowly rotting into something that looks like cheese. So you say "That's it, I gotta leave this place I don't care what these people think. I'm just sitting here making myself nauseous with this ugly food that stinks. So you bust out the door while it's still closed, still sick from the food you ate. And then you run to the store for quick relief from a bottle of Kaopectate. And then you call your friend two weeks later to see how he has been, and he says, "I understand about the food, Baby Bubba, but we're still friends.