@teaganharper​
He was a native to Los Angeles. That had its perks. For starters, he could tell a good food truck from a bad one, had them catalogued in his head, had those strong, gut-wrenching reactions when he remembered the food poisoning from El Tacoritas. To be fair, the name should have tipped him off. Where was the authenticity? The only je nais se quois it had was the possible e coli. In spite of the name, Belly Bombz was one of the more superior ones on the block.
It wasn't a minute that had gone by from the time he had placed his order to turning around to see a pig standing there, as if it was a sign of confession. The one standing next to it must have been its owner. What kind of fuckery was this?
"I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life," he started, eyes still on the animal, "but this joint is known for its pork belly. So, I can't tell if this is punishment or a lesson in cannibalism."
