"Alfred…Alfred, goddammit! Didn't I tell you to watch your weight?"
"Mmrph?" Your boyfriend made a loud slurping noise as he wolfed down his banana cream pie that had melted into a hot bowl of whipped cream slurry and vanilla pudding. Why did the buffets always have to have hot plates even at the dessert stands?
You sighed. "Alfred, I thought your doctor said your calorie counts have been flying off the charts. Keep this up and you'll die of a heart attack."
"It's okay, __________," Alfred dismissively replied and grabbed another bite of steak. You grimaced. Did beef even go well with bananas and pudding? Apparently it did for your boyfriend.
"Seriously, Alfred, I know you do a lot of sports, but do you think it would kill you to turn down the eating just a notch? You know, to ease up on the sugars and fats. At least do it for me."
"You mean like a diet?"
You nodded. "That's what I was getting at, yeah."
Alfred swallowed his food without chewing enough times for his stomach to easily digest.
"But, __________, I am on a diet."
You arched your eyebrows in disbelief. "Really? What kind of diet allows you to eat eight plates of food?"
"A 'seafood' diet!" Alfred stupidly grinned and waited for your reaction.
You blinked. "Didn't you eat an entire bowl of shrimp cocktail earlier?"
"Not that kind of seafood, _________," your boyfriend laughed. "The other kind!"
Now he was just being ridiculous. "What other seafood is there?"
"You know…" Alfred said as if it was common knowledge to understand his reference. "When I see food, I eat it! It's a see-food diet!"
"Don't you dare try to pull that shi—!!"