I remember the time I ate cat food, it was a while ago. It wasn't born out of desperation, but rather curiosity (the overpowering smell that it always had was all too tempting), with a sense of having to prove my manhood to my older cousin spliced in.
I took a bite, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it didn't taste as bad as I imagined, at first. As soon as it all settled in, in my mouth, I realized that not all was good in Wonderland, that the world was not black & white, that not all things are how you expect them to be, that fantasies are just that, and have no way of becoming a reality, because even if you manage to luck out, and get to your dream scenario, it will just be an approximation of what you've imagined, not the real deal, but most of all, I learned that my palate was quite different to that of a feline.
You see, the flavors that exploded in my mouth were nothing short of vile, and while they did not make me gag, I still wish to this day that I had spat it out, but alas, my machismo was working to its maximum effect that day.
As soon as I swallowed, I felt like I had been liberated, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, because, even if I could still taste the remains of the cat food, it wasn't anywhere near as strong as before. After that, I decided to never partake in dare or challenge like that ever again, except for the time I snorted salt in my classroom, but that's a story for another day.
