There are two brownie sundaes on the table—one is in front of me, one is in front of my sister,we’re at dinner with our mom who we don’t knowis on cocaine, who’s wearing sunglasses & havinga hard time tasting her food, & my sister saysshe doesn’t want her brownie sundae so I decide,once I’ve finished mine, that I will eat hers as well,it’s 1997-or-8, I’m eating my sister’s brownie sundae& our mom tells me I’m not to continue eatingmy sister’s brownie sundae, but I want to continue(though unaware that I want to continue in serviceof what wants to discontinue me), so I say I’mgoing to, & our mom says no you’re not & I sayyes I am & she says no & I say oh gosh are yougoing to start being a mom all the sudden (noI don’t), & then she brings up my weight whichis tied to nothing, what am I, twelve, thirteen,& my sister hasn’t yet entered treatment, & momhasn’t yet had the gastric bypass, & I’ve not yet triedto squash the illogic of craving with the taller illogicof god so our mom pours black pepper all overthe sundae is how the ordeal ends & I’m furiousbut then she is laughing & my sister is laughingso I guess, ha ha, I too am laughing—not thatit’s funny, but that she thinks I can be stopped