I am not a nugget

Please don't read this story if you are a vegetarian, or a vegan, because it might offend you. And no, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. So I apologize in advance if you find this offensive.
I got the idea off of one of the peta stickers my friend gave to me, and well before I knew it my pencil started to fly off. And plus, I was a bit hungry, since I didn't eat breakfast.

“I am not a nugget,” said the chick from the peta commercial. I sigh and turn off the TV sick and tired of the revolution. And sick and tired of starving myself of the yummy proteins, all the time. My stomach makes one of its usual growls, demanding something chewier, and… fleshy. I begin to close my eyes, and for a minute, just a minute I can almost taste an original hot dog from New York. The ones that just pop out juice when you bite into it, melting your mouth with its yumminess; and for a minute, I thought I can smell one in my mind, looking so tangible…

My stomach growls again, bringing me back into the cold hard world of reality. I sigh and wonder who the heck decided to start the stupid anti-meat revolution anyways. It was obviously someone who hated meat so much, that… I sigh, anger starting to flood through me. My hands were cold white fists, ready to punch the first person that comes in. I hear a rustle from outside, and a shadow passes by the window. It looked oddly human, most likely mother.

“Flesh is for zombies,” I mutter under my breath. “And meat is for survival,” I say back. Just then, an idea popped into my meat hungry thoughts. My mouth started to form a smile, as my brain shows me the plan. Because starting right now, I am going to…

“Bring… The… old… ways… back,” I say to myself, stuttering over the words. And my stomach growled, not in protest but this time in agreement.