Canis Major

Animal slaves toil for affection, haunting dreams and stealing food.

My Favourite Thing About Breakfast

I just wanted to tell everybody what a good breakfast I just had in bed post getting out of bed, pre-yawn hungry man achieving true 'burning man festival' memory space within the four walls of the head. Although I am a fan of breaking the fourth wall, preferably through the art of food making.

It begins by reviewing breakfast ingredients. Mushrooms from Calcutta. Bacon for Norway. Eggs from some underground battery in Slav. Whichever it is there is a calculated cooking time to reach optimistic food warmth. Pork is traditionally eaten at breakfast although I have also experimented with fish, beef and poultry. Your miles may vary on the ascent of breakfast meats although one thing is definite, it will require frying in roughly 2mm of oil. The pre-toast will be required a suitable time for grilling between overheated electrical wiring, the only danger are possible metallic polymers within the bread. If you consider your bread to contain foreign objects, microwave it. After a second or two it will start popping and whizzing like a

fourth of july barbecue

if there are indeed contaminants these can be exorcised using specific bread scooping tools such as the double lipped scissor or the angled spoon that any reputable chef or kitchenstein should own at this stage in life, since you can read. Fungals are next in the pan, followed by any other similarly sized brekky chunks such as black pudding, cheeseballs, bread, hash browns, tomatoes and the like. The last to go in a whole egg, cracked on the rim and then opened upside down in order to get no shell in the delicate membrane. All should be served on a single plate and then brought up with a cup or mug of tea and coffee. The difficult part is finding a suitable surface for your breakfast meal although I believe that the intellect needed to achieve this is best supplied by snorting a thick half crumbled pile of cocaine off your house key. Options for the breakfast include a glass of cold orange juice and a cigarette, depending on one's cancer apathy.

The Truth

The booster rocket divorced itself from the shuttle, flying backwards into space. It is briefly caught in the path of debris that the other booster gives off before spinning down to Earth. The camera lens in it's eye looks up at the sun and down at the ocean, again and again. Sometimes it caught a glimpse of the other rocket as it left a yellow trail whilst re-entering the atmosphere but otherwise it was the simple white and blacks of space and the occasional flick of the sea below. Down it went, faster and faster until it entered enough air to begin making sounds again. A series of planes below it pointed huge magnets upwards, catching the metal framework and guiding it towards land. The silver planes eventually side winded away to leave the huge rocket engine hurtling into the twin towers, destroying them both in an cataclysm of interstellar velocity. “The mission was a success.” said the president of the united states, drinking a glass of bourbon whilst watching New York be engulfed in a toxic smog.