Friend: Hey, Steve, thanks for inviting me to your dinner party tonight — it’s gonna be awesome, I’m sooooo excited! By the way, just so you know — I’m a vegetarian.
Me: Okay…. So what does that mean?
Friend: It means I don’t eat meat, you silly goose.
Me: I know what a vegetarian is you fucking idiot, I’m asking what it means in terms of dinner tonight because I was planning on cooking steaks. Steaks in a white wine, blood sauce — I already bought the marinade.
Friend: I don’t eat steaks. Or blood sauce.
Me: Obviously. So what do I need to do here? Should I just lay out some carrots or put a little hay in a bowl for you or something? Because I don’t have a trough.
Friend: Don’t be silly. I don’t want you to go through too much trouble. Just pick something up for me while you’re at the supermarket like some Tofu or a pack of Boca Burgers, you know, something that costs extra money on top of what you’re already spending on everyone else. And then when you get home just set aside enough time to cook my meal as well as the one you’re already cooking for all the other people. That way you can cook two entirely separate meals instead of just one in order to accommodate my lifestyle that doesn’t affect you at all.
Me: Why don’t you just eat meat this one time? I promise I won’t tell anyone.
Me: Why not? I’d be willing to sign something.
Friend: Because I don’t eat meat, Steve.
Me: FINE! I’ll just make chicken then.
Friend: I don’t eat that either.
Me: You don’t eat chicken? Yeah, right. Now you’re just making up stuff you don’t eat. I suppose you don’t eat chicken nuggets either?
Friend: No, nothing that was ever alive at one point.
Me: Vegetables were alive at one point.
Friend: Yeah, but they don’t have feelings.
Me: Oh, really? Don’t let Terri Schaivo or Christopher Reeves’ family hear you say that, you monster. What about eggs?
Friend: Yes, I eat eggs.
Me: Wait. You won’t eat a chicken but you’ll eat their babies? Are baby chickens considered to be vegetables? Like a legume or something?
Friend: No, they’re eggs. I eat dairy. I didn’t say I would – the egg isn’t developed into a chicken yet so…
Me: Right, so you believe in abortion and hate kids. And you’re a murderer.
Friend: No. I didn’t say th–
Me: Hey, how come you rarely come across vegetarians in countries that are starving like in Ethiopia, is that because they’re not ungrateful little pieces of crap and they eat whatever they can get their hands on?
Friend: I don’t know, maybe it’s cultural.
Me: That’s racist. Look, I don’t want to make two separate meals.
Friend: Then why don’t you just make the entire meal vegetarian for everyone? And that way you can kill two birds with one stone. Or rather, two asparaguses with one stone. That’s a vegetarian joke.
Me: Okay, first of all, that joke is retarded—it’s got me questioning whether I should have even invited you over at all or continue being friend with you, but look, I really don’t want to argue anymore. I’m done arguing. So you win, just tell me what you want me to make and I’ll just make it and let everyone know they have to suffer because of you. You’re a baby.
Friend: You’re the baby.
Me: No I’m not. I want steaks!
Friend: You can still make steak if you want, just make meatless steaks, I’ve had ‘em, they’re pretty good.
Me: What the hell are you talking about? Is that another shitty joke?
Friend: No, they make Tofu Steaks and Steak strips that taste just like steak except there’s no steak in them.
Me: Meatless steak?
Me: Steak, with no meat.
Friend: Yep, and they’re made to look and taste just like real meat.
Me: Hold up! No, no, no, no, NO! Absolutely not! You do not get to flavor your tasteless tofu brick-matter with the essence of meat. It’s an insult to all the animals who had to actually go through the process of being murdered and having their heads chopped off so they could become delicious flavors in our mouths. I’m sorry, but if you love your vegetables so much, you have to let your food taste like them. You can’t have your Gluten-Free cake and eat it too.
Friend: AHHHH! OKAY, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU MAKE, DO WHAT YOU WANT, IF I CAN’T EAT IT I WON’T, IF I CAN I WILL.
Me: No, now I’m serving plain celery to everyone. It’s decided. That’s what’s gonna be for dinner. Everyone is going to get one stalk of celery and they’ll have you to thank for it. I’ll turn the whole world against you.
Friend: Fine Steve, you do that.
Me: And I’m telling you right now just so you know, I may or may-not touch your celery with raw pieces of chicken bones without you knowing it. (May).
Friend: Okay, thanks for the heads up.
Me: I hate you with all of my heart — which means you can’t eat me. Because I have a heart.
Friend: Why would I eat you? I’m a vegetarian.
Me: Then I’ll make a mold out of me, made from tofu and you can eat that. But it will taste exactly like me, which will not taste good.
Me: What about shrimp? Do you eat shrimp?
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