Living in London

calm down herbavore

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I gasped at the stupid documentary on the stupid discovery channel about stupid meat processing. Why did I decide to watch this? Oh right- because I was home alone and nothing else was on. I watched in horror as the little pig on the screen that I'd named Bambi (yes, I know Bambi was a deer not a pig, but whatever) was lead into a factory. Sound effects of pig squeals, grinding machines and distressed moos formed some kind of disturbing montage. The documentary finished with a lovely shot of pork everything being packaged from the other side of the factory and cheery music.

My stomach churned as I flicked the TV off using the remote. Pursing my lips in disgust, I headed to the kitchen and threw out all the ham, bacon, salami... basically all the meat in the flat. I don't care what Louis and Harry say- they didn't see that documentary. They didn't see poor, naive, defenseless Bambi-the-Pig be fed into a giant meat-cleaver.

Congratulations, Discovery Channel. I'm officially a vegetarian.

I tied the bag of rubbish and pulled it from the bin. Dumping it down the stinky disposal, I screwed up my nose and headed back inside to wash my hands from touching the bag. I swear it has been in the bin for weeks now.

Speaking of weeks, Zayn and I had been going strong for around three weeks since I began to actually like him. All because he went and saved me like a babe. I sighed, looking out the window. I think he realized that something had changed, that I felt something when I kissed him. He seemed to act much more caring and boyfriendy. It was nice. He was really the perfect guy- he had the personality, the voice, the looks, the life. He was obviously one of God's favorites.

I decided to see if he was home. I skipped up three flights of stairs to the level of the complex that Zayn lived on. I knocked on the door and he answered almost immediately.

"Hey babe! The boys out?" he asked, kissing me hello.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks tinge pink- a regular occurrence. "They're at The Nook."

"Whatever happened to your job there?"

I gasped and slapped my hand over my mouth. "crap My interview was three weeks ago! Do you think they'll mind if I'm a bit late?"

"A bit?" he repeated with a smirk. I followed him out onto the balcony where he lit up a cigarette and slipped it between his lips. "Three weeks late is more than a bit."

I smiled at his comment, internally frowning at the cigarette. I hated it when he smoked. I wish he would quit. He said he would for his New Years resolution but he didn't; I mean, I understand it is hard, but he needs to understand what it's doing to him! I know it's his life and his decisions but I care about him and I don't want to watch him destroy his lungs like this. I've asked him to stop before. I've showed him the effects of cigarettes. I've threatened to not kiss him. None of it has worked and I needed to find a different approach. Then a thought struck me.

"Zayn," I said causally, leaning against the metal barrier around the balcony.

"Mmm?"

"Can I try one?" I asked.

"One what?" he asked, breathing out a cloud of smoke. I tried not to wrinkle my nose.

"A cigarette," I shrugged.

Please say no, please say no, please say no.

"Why?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and slipping the packet into his pocket, away from me.

I shrugged again. "I dunno. You seem to like them- they mustn't be that bad. I want to try one."

"No," he said simply and I pouted.