Me Want Chicken Biscuit

Whew! Medieval lit is over. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, which is good. Now all that's left is my theater take home final and I can kiss this semester adios.

So, medieval lit was at 8:00 am. Gross. During the test my stomach kept growling and when I finished at about 9:45, I was ravenous. Freudian references are amusing to me (Freudian slips, projection, anal retentiveness, etc.), so let's just say my id started taking over. It kept repeating, "Me want chicken biscuit," over and over, and it got progressively louder as time went on. My ego started calculating: "Okay, it's 9:45 now, you might be able to catch the transit at 10:00 and get back to your apartment in enough time to get your car and go back out to pick up a chicken biscuit combo before they stop serving breakfast at 10:30."

On the way home, my id's cry was deafening. I got to my car. Ten after. Me want chicken biscuit! Okay, okay. Pull out of my apartment. Me want chicken biscuit! All right, all right. Stop light. Me want chicken biscuit! But . . . what? Cop car with lights on behind me? Craptastic. Then super-ego springs up out of nowhere and starts freaking out and feeling guilty. What did I do? I can't afford a ticket! Nooooo! Meanwhile my id is still raging, and I'm slightly blocking traffic. My freak-out-ing-ness was a mixture of really not wanting to get a ticket, feeling really badly that I broke some traffic law, but still really wanting to get to Chick-fil-a before 10:30. Hmm. I guess the cop had reason to keep telling me to calm down. I ran a stop sign? Blast you, id! Me: fumbling in the glove compartment to find my insurance info, "Oh, my gosh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Cop: "Calm down, Miss Smith. Most people, when they're not paying attention, don't mean to." He took pity on me and let me off with a warning since I didn't have any outstanding warrants or anything to my name.

I got to Chick-fil-a in time, praise the Lord. My heart (and my id) was really set on a chicken biscuit.