Okay, I took a stab at this. Bad writing is surprisingly hard to pull off.
Looking at the birthday cake all I could think of is how the amylase in my saliva would break down most of the carbohydrates, my stomach acids would dissolve everything else, and then bile salts in my gut would take care of the rest and all of those calories would clog my arteries with glorious amounts of cholesterol, but I took a slice anyway.
When she walked into the bar he noticed her immediately because of her hair that has a streak of shocking purple against a brunette background and it reminded him of the mold on that loaf of bread he should have thrown out about a week ago.
The woman I had been eying across the bar introduced herself to me immediately, saying her name was Coco, and all I could think about was how civil warfare in the African Coast was costing my small chocolate company thousands of dollars.
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