There was a “Bacon Apple” at the fair who called to me like a cheap
hooker.
I knew it was trouble at first glance but was unable to stop
obsessing about the crispy shredded bacon, pressed into a ball, wrapped in
(drum roll) more bacon, deep fried.
Batter dipped, deep fried again & given the best Vlad the
Impale treatment with a sharpened spear of white birch.
Served plasma hot like a glowing coal in partnership with a pleated
white paper cup heavy with thick apple syrup. It all looks innocent enough but
is eager to scald my lips, cheek; basically all hard and soft palates.
Throw in a nice glottis scald just for laughs.
Introduce the bacon ball to the syrup, like the Pentecostal
preacher at a lakeside christening.
Expect an epiphany.
That thing will offer a variation of cheap oral sex…but of the
highest order.
Not so good for you perhaps, but hey, not their problem. For
them it’s just business.
For me? I’ve got to practice moderation in all things...including
moderation, of course.
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