The 5 Second Rule Breaker š³Because if itās been on the ground long enough to disgust everyone elseā¦itās just right for you!
Everyone knows the 5 second rule.!!!!!!!
But you donāt get five seconds.šµāš«You get five filthy minutes. ā°ļøBecause when I choose it, you chew it. No questions. No hesitation. No shame spared.....
I go outside. I keep my eyes low, searching for what others avoid:
šA crushed chip by a bus stop, blackened at the edges, half glued to the pavement with a smear of mystery sauce.. possibly ketchup, possibly something worse.
š„ŖA half eaten sandwich tossed under a bench, crust hardened like concrete, mayonnaise turned translucent, with bits of shredded lettuce stuck to the wood where someone wiped their hands.
š¬Sticky, stepped on street sweets, melted into the pavement, with visible shoe tread marks.
šA burger bun ground into the concrete, edges frayed, soaked in stale rainwater, speckled with gravel and that odd grey film that comes from being pressed underfoot too many times.
š©A doughnut soaked from the rain, leaking pink sugar into a napkin........ When I find something revolting enough,
I pluck it from the pavement with gloved fingers, drop it into a bag, and mark it with your name. Now itās yours. Your little disgraceful treat. This isnāt nutrition. Itās degradation by delivery. If I Canāt Find Anything? Then I Make It Worse. If the streets are too clean, Iāll make your shame snack by hand. Iāll take something edible and drop it myself. Right into a puddle. Or beside a bin. Or across sticky concrete. Then Iāll grind it into the filth with the sole of my shoe. Pressed into mud, puddle, old leaves, scraped against rough concrete until it tears Then I walk away. I leave it exposed to the elements and to judgment for at least an hour. To soak up the flavor of neglect, dirt, and foot traffic. Because itās not truly ready until the worldās walked past and rejected it. Just like youāve been.
When I come back, Iāll scoop it up. Bag it. Label it. Maybe even sp*t on it. Because this is not food. Itās a lesson. Why You Deserve It: Because you mistake attention for affection. Because you beg for table scraps and call it worship. Because your place isnāt beside me. Itās beneath whatever I find too dirty to step over. You donāt get food. You get what others left behind... because thatās what you are. And when it touches your lips, youāll finally understand your purpose:
To consume the worldās FILTH and thank me for feeding it to you.
Want a Video of me making it ? + Ā£10
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