Better Than Bedroom Bacon

I woke up with meat on my mind—applewood smoked bacon or chorizo wreathing a soft pile of scrambled eggs seasoned with scallion and red peppers. Maybe a couple slices of toasted and buttered hard dough bread? The perfect gourmet bed bash. But I was in a rush, and I never keep that type of the stuff in the fridge. I raced out of the house, a McDonald’s sausage egg McMuffin-mirage on the edge of the street. I haven’t had McDonald’s in forever. It would be just this one time. The conscious, anti-fast food police would never know. I want to buy the vegan, tofu scrambled eggs with homemade, apple soy sausage and coconut buttered whole wheat toast, but I just don’t have $9 to drop on breakfast right now. As I take that sharp right and head down the boulevard, my car piercing through the Krispy Kreme crack, Taco Bell and Subway-street walkers, I turn into the parking lot on the right. What am I doing here? I’m being led. I know it. The gourmet squatter angels are guiding me. I walk into the restaurant to find Mr. Carrot hard at work. “You’re hungry?” he asks in his Rafiki-in-The-Lion-King voice. He flashes that charming, goatee-framed grin and disappears. He emerges from the kitchen 20 minutes later, hands me the tofu special in a paper bag—McDee’s style. “Go forth. Be great,” he said.