Yes, Vulgar Wizard outed me yesterday on her blog. I ate 5 Fire Mountain bread rolls at work.
Actually five and one bite, because like the good old myth of Adam and Eve, it only took one bite to seal the deal. The boss had bought the office staff, just us five, take-out lunches from Fire Mountain, a franchised steak-house down here. BBQ pork, potatoes au gratin, beans, the usual bbq thing. And a roll. One of those heavenly lightly browned golden buttered rolls that they do so well. And bless his dark and twisted soul, he brought us two more carry-out styros of rolls. Just rolls. Two containers of them.
I felt like a crack fiend who had just won the lottery.
And I was being strong, I was. I had told myself to ignore the sounds of the microwave running. Several times. I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring the sweet smell of cooked pork wafting up the hallway toward my desk. I could even tune out the thought that one of the nurses might come in hungry and take one of our lunches, leaving me with naught. I was being strong.
And then VW walked by with a paper-wrapped bundle which she was nibbling on. A roll. One piece of buttered heaven. I was trying to stare fixedly at my computer screen, hoping to avoid catching her eye, because I knew that if she saw the raw, unbridled lust in my eye she'd run screaming. And hopefully drop that roll on my desk when she ran away. But no, she lingered. She smiled. She offered me a bite off the end of that roll. I'm not sure but I think she got quite a laugh out of the rapturous look that I got while chewing.
I thought I was going to be strong. I thought that one bite would hold me, would keep the driving urgency out of my heart. It did, for about five minutes. You see, VW is also quite thoughtful ("See kid, the first one is free. You gotta pay for the next hit,") and meaning only the best, she snuck back to the kitchen, nuked one roll for me, wrapped it, and snuck it onto my desk while I was trying desperately not to leap up and take one whole styro container full for myself.
It was all over.
I made that roll last a good half hour, which made it noon and time for lunch. The sweet buttery fluffy goodness that was the roll in my lunch was, shall we say, "pathetic?" Tiny, undernourished, it lasted two bites. So I had to take out a few more and warm them and leave them in the lid of my lunch container, so that I could bask in their golden light until I tore into them with the ferocity of a confirmed carnivore who has suddenly discovered flour + water + heat + butter = tender white goodness.
"Hallo, my name is Irrelephant, and I'm addicted to Fire Mountain bread rolls."