When Hunger Calls

... I listen; and then I eat, and eat, and eat.

Now, I'm not a real big guy. I reach a modest height, slightly south of five foot seven; and tip the scales somewhere near eleven stone and six... on my heavier days. That's about 160 pounds American.

Most days I don't eat much. A few cups of coffee in the morning charges my batteries and puts my adrenaline on fast forward. Occasionally I need a small snack to get me into evening. A decent dinner keeps me healthy.

It was different this morning. A quick fix of Juan's best brew got me off on my jog. By the time I returned I was hungry. Not just ready to eat... but, hUnGrY; really ugly hungry. This called for some serious culinary creativity.

So I set a pot of water to boil, flipped the switch on the belgian waffle maker, gathered up some milk and eggs and butter and flour; a package of yeast, some vanilla sugar and bowls and whips and things and churned out some mix. Setting the mix aside to mature, I poured some creme of wheat in the boiling water and slapped a dozen strips of bacon in a pan. After draining the bacon I fried a half dozen eggs in the drippings and filled the waffle maker. All the while I was getting what you might call coffee tipsy. No matter.

Waffle all fluffy and golden brown, I set another to cookin, and dressed the first with fresh strawberries and cool whip, and sat down to feed my hunger. The dining table was brimming with delights and I wasted no time digging in...bite, after bite, after bite. The hunger finally satisfied, I made note of what I'd just ate: a large bowl of creme of wheat, two belgian waffles, 12 strips of bacon, a half dozen fried eggs, a bowl of fresh strawberries, two glasses of orange juice, and eight cups of coffee. I know I'm gonna pay. You always pay. I had planned on meat loaf, spinach and potatoes au gratin for dinner. Probably I'll pass.

... and so it goes.