sushi and ice cream // Katrina/Damion

k a t r i n a .

“Where the fuck are the capers?”

We’re in the Capitol, yeah? Where they got everything, yeah? Where we tributes get wined and dined before we get collectively bent over, yeah? So explain to me why there’s no capers for my GODDAMN bagel. I built it just right. Smoked salmon. Red onion. Cucumbers. And a healthy serving of the best looking cream cheese I’ve seen in a hot minute all on a poppy seed bun and there’s not a single caper to be fuckin found.

“You believe this shit?” I gripe to my left. That’s about when I realize its not Andal that’s in line behind me, but the other guy from 10. My bad, they smell the same. Like farmland. He ain’t a farmer though. The after-reaping report that aired about us tributes said his family runs an ice cream parlor. Poor fuck. We don’t train with spoons in the career centers. What’s he gonna do, scoop someone to death?

But hey, I want someone to share in my righteous indignation about the lack of capers, and he might not be Andal, but he’ll do. Fella that works in the food industry should know all about customer satisfaction. Like damn, I know it’s a garnish, but it brings out the flavors man. It’s like stabbing a dummy without actually damaging it, sure it gets the point across, but where’s the satisfaction?

So I continue.

“How am I s’posed to enjoy my cream cheese bagel with no capers? Fuck me, what’s next, no caramel sauce for my dessert later?”