So, in what should have been a nice gesture, my girlfriend packed a Kit Kat for dessert. We had just finished our meal of a delicious chicken sandwich at Chef Burger on Yonge Street, near Bantry-Scott, when she pulled out the mini bar from her purse. Perhaps, if she had brought two of them, the whole terrible mess could have been avoided. Alas, she had only brought one.
She offered to share it with me, and then added mischievously, “my way.” She bit the mini bar across the top, severing the two pieces in half without separating them. Without separating them. You see, we’ve been having a disagreement about the proper way, or if indeed there is a proper way, to eat a Kit Kat for most of our relationship. I feel quite strongly that you should break off each piece and eat them separately. She thinks nothing of biting off the top half of three or four of the sticks at a time like a barbarian.
I tried splitting the two half stumps, but she goaded me into eating them that way. When I finished, she asked if it tasted differently or if the world had fundamentally changed. She felt pretty smug about the whole thing.
I tried to explain to her that it did indeed taste different. I felt as though the bar had lost half its character and essence. I deeply regret my actions. As for the world, I assert that perhaps the world has been shaken to its core. Don’t be surprised if Sunrise is a minute or two later than it is supposed to be every day this week.