Very early on Sunday morning, August 7, 2005, I returned home from my work at the Cleveland Improv. Working nights has some benefits, as I never have to be awake before four, but the seven-hour shifts can sometimes be a drag.
On the previous evening, I had done just that. Near to 10:30, I felt a feeling in my stomach that occurs often when a man of my size seats hundreds of people without a bite to eat. I fought the urge to order a plate of mozzarella sticks or some other such appetizer from the kitchen, for I knew that would only placate my hunger for so long, and I think I had already pissed off the bartender.
So the late show came and went, leaving me hungry as a brown bear just awoken from his winter hibernation, eager to devour the next trout he sees in the forest stream. After clocking out, I had my options before me. 1) Go to one of the neighboring bars and get some grease-smothered snack which again would only hold me over for so long. 2) Stop at a fast food outlet and take my chances with the 24-hour drive thru staff. 3) Wait until I return home, and cook up a scrumptuous feast.
Well, after much debating, I realized there was only one answer that would satisfy me. I could only be satiated by the hard work and high yield of a home-cooked banquet. Once I returned, I quickly set to work, and had a frying pan up and ready in no time. On it, I fried three eggs (one of which ended up as an omelet), then added a few delicious strips of vegetatian bacon. In the mean time, I toasted a buttered English muffin.
After availing myself to some salsa (the last of which in the refrigerator) to complement the eggs, I was ready to consume this amazing product. In no time, all I had were the crumbs and bits of salsa to tell of the once-great and promising display. To finish off this masterpiece, I enjoyed a peach yogurt, of the Dannon variety. By 2:30 a.m., the meal was gone, with nothing in its place but a full stomach, and the memory. Please help me immortalize this meal by enjoying this website. Thank you.