A Guilty Pleasure

I can honestly say that I enjoy tortillas, both flour and corn varieties, and have even made the effort to learn the art of making them.  If I do say so, I am not too bad at it either.  I am also a fan of beans: stewed, fried, and refried.  But there comes a time in every person's life when the tortilla-bean combo reaches the point of maximum utility, where no more pleasure can be obtained from this simple meal.  This point came tonight.  My family here in Blue Creek spoils me, they really do, and this particular evening I was served a couple of tasty pieces of fried chicken (which I discretely nibbled and fed to the animals due to the parasite that has taken over my intestines) along with tortillas, of the flour variety.  As I looked at that familiar source of carbs, I remembered when I used to relish this piece of flat bread when covered with peanut butter and honey.  Oh, but I have peanut butter and honey in my room, I conspired.  How, I thought, do I get this warm tortilla away from the table and into my room where I can secretly smother it in gooey peanuty sweetness?  The perfect opportunity came when my siblings went outside to greet a visitor and I hastily stuffed the tortilla under my shirt and walked casually, holding my stomach as one does when one is "stuffed" and walked back to my hut.  There I used the handle of my borrowed spoon to cover my stolen tortilla with my stashed spread.  Man, what goodness.  I sat in my hammock, licking honey off my fingers as I enjoyed my dinner, a little bit guiltily, knowing that what I had just done would have required too much explanation to make asking simply for the tortilla worthwhile. 

UPDATE: Since I wrote this account, they (being my host family) "discovered" my peanut butter stash.  I am not sure how they did this, I suspect hidden cameras, but they did.  I only discovered this in the morning, when they suggested I could use some of my peanut butter on my fry jacks.  I was a little paranoid, but I have already come to accept my total lack of privacy and have moved on with life.