FBI Ordered My Sister to Trash the Chicken Dinner My Mother Prepared for Me!
On Thursday afternoon, June 27, I came rushing home from the library. I greeted my mother, telling her I was racing time. I had taken a quick glance at the stove at the dinner I believed was cooked for me.
As I was getting ready to leave again--back to the library--my mother knocked on my door, informing me that my sister just dumped the chicken meal she had prepared for me. I glanced in bafflement at my sister before going out, who stood in the corner of the refrigerator, in the kitchen, in mysterious subdued silence.
Later in the evening, I told her that she didn't have to dump the food, saying she could have eaten it herself, and she replied that she was giving mother a taste of her own medicine for having thrown her meals in the past to counteract her overweight.
As I was watching a movie and eating an egg sandwich and chips, a red ambulance zoomed by shrieking, a small plane came flying, and several cars were driving by loudly, and I could not help feeling the FBI guy ordering my chicken to be dumped, was frightened, fearing retaliation from me.
What hurt me most about this incident, was my mother telling me that she cried at this cruel act. But what can I do? This brute is merciless. He clearly has the upper hand.
On Friday evening, June 28, my sister could be heard while showering, laughing and scoffing, saying the word "justice" in tones of dark ridicule.
As I was getting ready to leave again--back to the library--my mother knocked on my door, informing me that my sister just dumped the chicken meal she had prepared for me. I glanced in bafflement at my sister before going out, who stood in the corner of the refrigerator, in the kitchen, in mysterious subdued silence.
Later in the evening, I told her that she didn't have to dump the food, saying she could have eaten it herself, and she replied that she was giving mother a taste of her own medicine for having thrown her meals in the past to counteract her overweight.
As I was watching a movie and eating an egg sandwich and chips, a red ambulance zoomed by shrieking, a small plane came flying, and several cars were driving by loudly, and I could not help feeling the FBI guy ordering my chicken to be dumped, was frightened, fearing retaliation from me.
What hurt me most about this incident, was my mother telling me that she cried at this cruel act. But what can I do? This brute is merciless. He clearly has the upper hand.
On Friday evening, June 28, my sister could be heard while showering, laughing and scoffing, saying the word "justice" in tones of dark ridicule.
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