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- I'm worried, Mikey, I'm worried big time.

- About what?

- The Big C, buddy.

- Her cunt?

- No, you dummy—Cancer!

- Oh, the other one.

- Everything I drink is diet these days: the juice, the soda pop—you name it.  When I drink green tea, it's gotta be diet.  Blueberry green tea—it's diet.

- But it's got the blueberries.

- Can you believe that?  Diet tea.  Even my water's diet.

- That stuff can't be too good for you.

- I know.  I mean, I think about getting sick so often, now each time I take a sip—What is this one?  Cranberry Pomegranate Purified Water—all I can taste are the chemicals.

- Well, that's two fruits at least.  Why don't you just stick to regular juice, simply orange juice.

- Eh, I heard in a youtube video orange juice, specifically, is one of five top causes of weight gain in seemingly healthy diets.  It was like this 30 minute video, then you had to order the book to find out why.

- Any juice then, or just regular soda pop.

- It's all too many excess calories, buddy. Sharlene, she may have a big cunt, but she wants me to stay thin.  

- Oh.

- Even after a workout when I need carbs, I kill myself in the window period researching good sources, and when time runs out, I always end up opting for the ten calorie sports drink, or Big Gulp Diet Coke with some lemon syrup.

- Carbs make the calories, Chester.

- I know, I scrounge up a couple grams here and there—I don't have the heart to do it all at once—but the 110 or 160, or the motherfucking two hundred and eighty!  I don't know, the label has a big hold over me when I stare at it for too long.  She wouldn't let me, anyway.

- Look, one soda won't kill you, or make you lose her.  Sharlene's a great gal; and in spite of her irrational cunt, she'll understand your concerns.

- Yea, you're probably right...I don't know if I can do it though, natural sugar.  The other day the server accidentally poured me full flavor, and my tongue couldn't get used to the aftertaste.  It's like the chemicals have shocked my taste buds.  I had to throw it in her face.  I ran to the bathroom; I couldn't eat without washing out my mouth.

- What about her?

- Oh, she just left the diner wiping off her face—I can't even drink water and be satisfied.  I'm getting nothing these days if it's not flavored, nothing.

- Which restaurant was it?

- The one on 26th Street, over by the beach.

- Wait, is that the same waitress you threw the breadstick at last week?

- Well I've been gluten-free for two years. 

- Yea, well now she knows.

- That's right, now everybody knows—You got an extra one?

- My last one.

- Pull over; I'll get you a pack, too.  It's cheaper that way.