Frank had a reputation. Not the kind of reputation that made people admire him, but the kind that made them sigh heavily before inviting him to anything.
He was the guy who’d argue that ice cream was technically soup because it melts, or that birds weren’t real because he’d “never seen one refuel.”
One sunny Saturday, Frank’s friends decided to host a barbecue. It was meant to be a peaceful day of burgers, laughter, and relaxation. But as soon as Frank showed up, wearing a t-shirt that read “Meat is a Myth,” the peace was over.
“Burgers, huh?” he said, surveying the grill. “You know, if cows really didn’t want to be eaten, they’d evolve claws by now.”
“Frank, please,” said Tom, flipping a patty. “We’re just trying to enjoy some food.”
“Oh, I’m just saying,” Frank continued, grabbing a soda. “You’re all basically complicit in the downfall of humanity. But hey, what do I know? I’m just the only one here brave enough to question the burger industrial complex.”
Later, as everyone sat around the table, Frank noticed a bowl of potato salad. “You know,” he began, pointing his fork at it, “potatoes are technically fruit. Because they grow underground. Like truffles.”
“That’s not true,” said Sarah, already exhausted.
“Look it up,” Frank shot back with a smug grin. “You’ll find out I’m right.”
By the time dessert rolled around, everyone was too tired to challenge Frank’s latest claim—that chocolate was invented as a government conspiracy to distract people from inventing better snacks. “You’re welcome for expanding your minds,” he said, polishing off the last slice of cake.
As Frank left that evening, his friends sat in silence. “Why do we keep inviting him?” asked Sarah.
Contrariot.com 