December 11th
In Which I Am Irrationally Upset About Tapas
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Wilto:
It cannot compete with Razzy’s.
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Kassie:
Not for atmosphere, no.
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Wilto:
Nor affordability. Nor popcorn quality.
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Kassie:
There is no popcorn. One place gives out free tapas.
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Wilto:
Ridiculous. I don't want a stupid bowl of tiny potatoes with my beer. I want popcorn smothered in weird powdered chemicals.
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Kassie:
…
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Wilto:
“Tapas are dumb,” is what I’m getting at.
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Kassie:
Tapas are delicious.
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Wilto:
“Tapas is?”
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Kassie:
Good question.
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Wilto:
Is “tapas” the concept of stupid tiny potatoes—is it the goddamned philosophy of unsatisfying food portions? Or can I order one… Tapas? A tapa? Like, “I’ll just have a single tapa, please. I filled up on other molecules on my way over.”
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Kassie:
It’s a bunch of appetizers.
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Wilto:
So basically “tapas” is a lifestyle choice wherein one brings me irritating amounts of food.
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Kassie:
Also, patatas bravas are delicious.
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Wilto:
Holy Christ what is that even. “Brief potatoes?” That sounds like tapas, alright: “enjoy this three gram serving of baked potato, for it is fleeting.”
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Kassie:
They are potatoes with spicy sauce.
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Wilto:
Well I hate them.
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Kassie:
Good, more for me.
