Page 2 of Croc Food

“Very nice,” Mr. Van Buren said approvingly, looking at Kyle’s steak and roasted potatoes. “That little lady knows how to pack a lunch.”

“What about you?” Zach said as I fiddled with the clasp.

Fuck, he had somehow discerned my invisible smirk.

“I-I don’t think I’m hungry,” I tried.

“Now, come on, son, lunch is a very important meal,” my boss blustered, and I nervously opened my lunchbox.

The thing was, Bitsy had to manage the Sloppy Joe all day, which was very basic shit like pizza, burgers, and chicken tenders, so she really liked being creative at home.

And I loved that creativity so much. At home. . .

What greeted me was three globes of white rice arranged so they were in the shape of a skeleton. Beside that was teriyaki chicken skewers made to look like bloody skewered hearts, covered in a spicy red sauce, while boiled eggs cut up in the shape of vampire teeth nestled beside that.

To Bitsy, everything spooky and fall wasn’t just a season, it was a year-round lifestyle. And usually I thought it was the most adorable thing in the world.

But somehow it just didn’t fit in here.

And, most embarrassing of all, there was a big note pinned to the top of the lunchbox in Bitsy’s swirly handwriting, with all the little i’s made with hearts.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

You’re the cutest man alive

Even when you get the man-flu.

“Turn it around,” Mr. Van Buren said jovially as everyone stared at me.

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. What was everyone going to think of me now?

“Well—” I began, when Zach whirled it around, and everyone contemplated the note and food in silence.

“Not exactly Pulitzer winning poetry,” Zach snorted.

My boss’ hairy eyebrows were almost up to his non-existent hairline.

“Very droll,” Mr. Van Buren said dryly after taking a big bite of his meatloaf.

“This your first day of kindergarten?” Zach put in mockingly, and I was forced to laugh with everyone else. Zach often made these stupid little digs at Bitsy and because Mr. Van Buren thought “roasting” each other was team bonding, I wasn’t able to tell him to fucking knock it off.

“At least I have a wife,” I said, but it landed lamely.

“Yeah, but do you have a wife or a mommy,” Zach mocked, as I gritted my teeth.

“Blue hair is such an extraordinary color for a woman,” Mr. Van Buren said. “I wonder you allow it in your wife.”

I bit back my retort that Bitsy did whatever she wanted.

Mr. & Mrs. Van Buren were supposed to be coming over for dinner in a week and I was nervous as hell about how that was going to go. Bitsy didn’t exactly fit the “sweet lil housewife” idea Mr. Van Buren was always praising as the highest acquirement for a salesman to have.

I was tired of feeling embarrassed at work, and I was never going to get this promotion if Mr. Van Buren didn’t take me seriously. Kyle was discussing their new basement renovation plans as he cut his perfectly done steak.

No note, nothing cutesy, nothing conspicuous at all.

My cheeks burned as I picked up the chopsticks and dug resentfully into the skeleton.