This Little Piggy Went For My Eyes
Made myself bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. It was warm and quiet, I had a cold glass of OJ, and I was enjoying the start of my day.
It was so quiet, in fact, that I could hear sounds coming from my sizzling bacon that I had never heard before. A kind of cry, almost a plaintive squealing, if I could let my imagination go that far. I flipped a rasher and pressed it down with my fork, and I was met with the high-pitched oink of porcine distress. It was at this point that a bubble of fat snapped from the pan and struck me just above my left eye.
It was almost enough to put me off meat entirely.
It was so quiet, in fact, that I could hear sounds coming from my sizzling bacon that I had never heard before. A kind of cry, almost a plaintive squealing, if I could let my imagination go that far. I flipped a rasher and pressed it down with my fork, and I was met with the high-pitched oink of porcine distress. It was at this point that a bubble of fat snapped from the pan and struck me just above my left eye.
It was almost enough to put me off meat entirely.
[Ed's Note: It would take much, much, much more than this to put Josh off of meat, and it would take the physical incarnation of a demon swine directly in his fry pan to put him off bacon.
