I've been eating food for about three decades now, give or take. I like eating food. I enjoy maintaining the ascendant position in the relationship between me and food. In terms of the Hegelian master/slave dialectic, I am definitely the master of the food that I eat. I wouldn't like the food to eat me. I wouldn't like if the tables metaphorically turned, while, literally, the table on which my food stood did not turn but, rather, the food sprung up from said stationary table and began eating me. It would be a cruel twist of fate if my food attacked and ate me. I have not fantasized about my food eating me. I have not had dreams about my food eating me. I have not had to clean up after myself after waking up, panting, from a dream about food eating me, swallowing me whole and digesting me. I have never been dropped as an infant. I have not drawn pictures of various scenarios in which I would like to find myself in, where food would animate and begin eating me bit by bit as I scream for help and squirm in secret pleasure. I have not recently switched to drinking Soylent exclusively to try and batter down the hatch and weather my uncontrollable urges. Oh, I'm sorry. I just looked it up and it's actually "batten down the hatch". I typed "batter" because I was thinking about food again and how good I am at eating it, and it not eating me.
I have been shitting myself from the Soylent though.
