"Dammit!", I thought to myself as I looked down at my plate. The pink uncooked flesh explained why my last two bites of chicken had been oddly squishy...
I microwaved the rest, ate it. Thought about salmonella.
"Oh well. I'm a big strong organism, salmonella is little and weak. I'll poison the fuckers with one, two, three, four small shots of vodka. And beer. I'll need lots of beer."
Five hours later, I find myself dancing with a stranger with pretty glasses on the dance floor at Kaffibarinn.
I didn't get salmonella.