When the Greek food started showing up, everyone started eyeballing me, like, just because my ancestors built the Acropolis means I can summon the pita of my people at any time. Racist! We Greek immigrants have many supernatural powers, but that is NOT one of them. Anyway, the dolmas were fantastic, just like my dad used to fix, but I could still taste the barely hidden mayonnaise of Corporate dominance. Only a Marketing Focus Group would put mayo in Dolmas. It is the flavor of coercion!
Six hours later, after a particularly bad Mouthoulakes binge (oh the honeyed goodness), I stormed into the editor's office, throwing the doors open before me in a gale of disturbed papers and maps.
