Intolerance

Story Sent in by Paulette:

Online, Thomas asked me if I wanted to visit a local bakery with him. "It's run by a couple from Greece," he told me, "The nicest people. They make everything on site."

Sign me up, I told him.

When there, I ordered a tsoureki roll and he ordered some baklava. After we sat down and nibbled for a little bit, he asked me if I liked it. I really did.

Then, he asked me if he could try some of my roll. I handed it to him and he took a bite. After chewing it for a little bit and swallowing, he gagged and said, "It's poison!" then stood up, nearly fell over, grabbed my cup of water, drank it all down, and bolted for the bathroom.

He had made a scene and so everyone there, worker and customer alike, looked at me. I sniffed at the roll, as if I could tell what poison smelled like. I had already tried some and felt fine. I took another bite and didn't die. So I headed for the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"You okay in there?" I asked.

He replied, "Yes. Don't come in. Poison."

"I tried more of the roll. It seemed fine to me."

He said, "Gluten! I forgot about gluten!"

I asked, "Are you gluten intolerant?"

He said, "No, but it tasted like poison."

"Right," I said, "I'll meet you back at the table."

I returned to the table with my half-eaten roll and his baklava still there, waiting for me. When he didn't come out after a long time, I finished them both and simply left.

A while later, he texted me, "Where's my baklava?"

I replied, "Seemed like a shame to waste it. And it probably had gluten or poison in it or whatever, so I figured you wouldn't eat it."

He wrote back, "But POISON!"

I didn't respond. Ever.