Mi casa es su casa

The sound of the food processor drives Dad crazy, vrrr vrrr, mad, vrrr, vrrr, he shouts, "Curt! Curt! Turn that thang off!" I call Guy. Guy tells me that he's a vegan. "What's that even mean?" I say. "No animals, Curt," Guy says. But he's still not clear, or at least he's not clear enough for me. "No hamburgers," I say. "Nope," Guy says. "No eggs?" I say. "No eggs," Guy says. "What about fish?" I say. "Not even fish," he says. He knows it's coming. "No...butter?" I say. "No butter," he says. "Well, I mean, I can have something called Earth Balance." "I want to cry," I say aloud, even though I intended to think it instead. "Don't be so dramatic," Guy says. "I feel great. And, it doesn't mean you can't eat butter," he says. "I can't make butter here!" I say. "It's always, Turn that thang off," I say, imitating Dad. I am sobbing. "Curt," Guy says. "Mi casa es su casa."