The Foodie Blues

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Dorian sat miserably at the makeshift counter in front of a street vendor peddling his pungent dishes. John was in his natural habitat, comfortably shoveling rice into his mouth from a questionable bowl. The calamari he ordered was steaming in the chilly air.

"Try it," John urged, pinching a piece of deep fried squid in his chopsticks and holding it up to Dorian's face.

Shying away, the android turned his head, "I don't eat. It would be pointless."

"What about making me feel better?" John grumbled, "Do you know what it's like to eat alone? Well, no I guess you wouldn't."

John looked away, effectively making Dorian feel terrible. "Okay," the android said slowly, "I'll try it."

The brilliant smile on John's face was worth it a million times over. He picked up a crispy circle of deep fried squid meat and held it up to Dorian who took it hesitantly in his perfect teeth. "Chew it," John said, "Don't just swallow it like a big pill."

Dorian did as he was instructed, crunching on the chewy sea creature. The blue lights on his face started running patterns.

"No," John said, placing a hand over Dorian's cheek, "Don't analyze, enjoy."

Dorian grabbed a napkin and spit the horrible mess into it. He grabbed John's plate and flipped it over quickly, spilling rice and sauce everywhere, sending little calamari wheels bouncing and rolling in every direction. .

"What the fuck, Dee!"

Glowering at the man behind the counter, Dorian began to yell loudly at him in a Malay dialect. The man was shouting back. John didn't understand a word, he just felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He was tugging on Dorian's coat and hissing, "Sit down, sit down."

The shop owner started slamming pans and shouting. He picked up a cleaver and waved it around. Dorian pulled out his badge and the disgruntled cook fell over himself to get away. Spilling hot oil into the street, it sizzled across the pavement. John groaned, picking up a piece of calamari with his fingers, giving up.

Dorian let the shop owner run away and turned to John, slapping the calamari out of his hand before he could put it in his mouth. "John, Jesus, don't eat that, man."

"You know this was my favorite place to eat," John grumbled, "was."

"Well then I don't know how you don't have salmonella coursing through your body. That was some seriously contaminated fryer grease, imported squid, and at least ten kinds of harmful bacteria." Dorian's face was lighting up, no doubt calling in some unnecessary biohazard team.

John looked mournfully at the ruins of his favorite deep-fried seafood haunt. He got up and headed down the street to a divey little pho restaurant around the corner. Dorian followed, still listing all the hazards that could have befallen his partner.

They sat in a booth and John placed his order. When the hot bowl of pho was brought to the table, Dorian reached for a spoon.

John wrapped his arms around the bowl protectively and grabbed a fork. "Come near it and I'll stab you!" he threatened.

John never felt guilty about eating alone ever again.