I have been polite.
I have been open minded.
I have eaten watermelon, pineapple, and cantaloupe with the required knife and fork.
But yesterday, the chocolate croissant came with a package: a knife and fork tightly wrapped in a white paper napkin. I couldn't take it anymore. All around me: cutting, spearing, chewing croissants. My heart raced. A devilish smile grew. I picked up the pastry in my oh-so-filthy hands and took a bite. Placing (practically throwing) the croissant back on the plate, I waited to see horror, shock, or at least disapproval. But no one seemed to notice my transgression. So I did it again. Fingers wrapped around the buttery crust, mouth wide open, bite! Again, no reaction. Should I lick the croissant?
Colonial gal that I am, I finished eating with my hands. Those around me used their steak knife. Two species seemingly coexisting just fine.
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