Now for some sick Sam.
"Sick or not, you have to eat."
Sam shook his head. "No, I don't."
"You do. If you don't eat, I won't let you sit shotgun."
"That's stupid. Who else would sit there?"
"A hot chick. A murderous hitchhiker. Hell, Sam, I don't know, just not you."
"I'm not a kid."
"Says the six-foot-gazillion guy weak from hunger sitting in the back."
"No."
"Pick something or I'll pick for you."
"No."
"Fine. Here." He shoved a carton under Sam's nose.
"What is it?"
"It's green. You like green shit."
He sniffed. "It's seaweed salad. I love that."
"Here. Chopsticks. Eat."
Thanks for reading.