Once when I was a kid and my family was poor my parents bought me and my sister each a cheeseburger and sent us out to the backyard to eat them so we wouldn’t make a mess (fast food was a rare treat at this point). I remember we set the burgers down on the picnic table and were about to eat when my sister saw something in the grass and went to investigate, being a younger brother I followed her. In like 10 seconds we realized was just some piece of glass but by then our lovable fat sack of crap dog had already walked to the table. I screamed and my sister turned around but we were far to late to save our burgers. We went into the house distraught and I demanded a new burger, my parents thought it was the most hilarious shit in the world (I was like 4 so it probably looked pretty funny if you’re an amoral bastard) and of course they didn’t buy a new burger (see: poor). I still get angry sad thinking about that pain, not helped by the fact that every time I bring it up my parents are filled with a joyous, youthful, almost elven glow, and laugh at my misery