DALLAS, TX -- David Finch walked into Gilded Confine an 83-year-old man who had just eaten an edible for the first time. After spending five minutes counting out the 5 dollars he needed to pay in order to access the buffet, Mr. Finch slowly waddled his way over to claim a plate. Obviously stoned out of his gourd, it took the elderly ex-marine around 45 seconds to decide where to begin his feast.

	“I think it’s--hold on; can I put ice cream on my french fries?” David, eyes completely cached, wondered aloud. “I don’t think they let you get more than one plate at a time, so I’ll just put the chicken on the jello. Wait, honey BBQ sauce?”

	The ramblings went on for the entire duration of Mr. Finch’s dining experience at Gilded Confine. Every time an employee came up to refill a hotel pan full of some unimaginably cheap, somewhat edible entree, David couldn’t help but ask: “Do you guys hate me?” Despite multiple reassurances from literally everyone on the clock that day, he still wasn’t convinced that they were being honest with him.

	“Man,” he said. “I just feel like they don’t like how much food I’ve got on my plate right now. I feel bad about that, you know? That really bothers me. I should tell them I’m sorry again. It’s weird; I had a brownie that my nephew kept in his fridge, and ever since I left his apartment I’ve just been a little off my game today. I should try and make things right with those good people up there. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so bizarre.”
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