The Sacrilegious Sauce

An old draft of.... something-or-other found on my phone's notes.

dated 08/25/2019

Written because barbecue sauce is yucky and I don't like it 

He reluctantly, with no shortage of disgust, cast his eyes towards the barbecue sauce. The otherworldly shame of allowing such a pure, reverent concept to become so befouled; tainted by low-quality spices, synthetic flavors born of artificial chemical Godhood, blackened in both color and character by its makers was so great that he felt an accomplice to the vile deed simply for being in the same household as It. He warned himself not to become too fixated, but the despair in the memory of his encounter with it began to take root. Quietly, foggily, he realized he was afraid.

The taste of stale paper acclimated itself to his mouth, his knuckles whitened against the cherry table and the space around him began to whiten and undulate; it became clear that the boy was suddenly tumbling into a morbid enrapture that he could not break.