While many males with an eye for pleasure are self-admitted
‘leg men’, my mind is a bit cracked and hard boiled so
I turn towards other femur-free parts of the chicken with an ‘Egg yen’ as an alternative. Yes beyond the insatiable
draw of black coffee and bulky robes with my initials on them, I enjoy
unfertilized chicken embryos, preferably scrambled, atop buttered white toast
points to begin the day. Bacon, gravy soaked biscuits and a pig in a blanket's (like me) perennial favorite – pancakes, are all fine too but nothing feeds my
sunrise craving like waiting for a first class egging to ensue.
As compared to some of the aforementioned diet-busting breakfast
selections, you might think that I am an EGG-ficionado
for health reasons and concerns about my advancing age and nutritional
needs. While some of this is true (I am
indeed getting old), banal n’ bland eggs are not always as safe a choice as one
might think. No, lurking beyond the fluffy and apparently harmless geography of
white and yellow, is a disturbing reality which all too often haunts me to
societal disquiet just as it did to Hyde and that Jekyll fellow.
You see it is not really the fault of the egg alone but it
is the combustive combination of adding my own selfish perversions into the
perfect breakfast equation. For who among us cannot admit to consuming fried
yolk and albumen with the addition of luxurious flavor enhancers such as
cheese, salsas, and seasonings to taste?
Indeed I too do not take my flamed-Jane eggs plain as I insist on
sullying their sultry surfaces and rep
by dotting the pile with a shake o’ salt and a liberal dusting of pep.
Clearly when I’m inside and church has let out, Denny’s and
IHOP will never seem stranger-safe, to high society’s gentrified, their
table-high progeny, and lost souls of trusting faith. Invariably those who dare
proximity to the puffing of pepper over my plated egg faire, are fraught with
risk from a collateral mid-bite, egg-raid air-scare. For when atomized pepper
takes leave of its senses to swiftly stride through my stuffed sinus peninsula,
all bets are off; since in seconds all soups will be egg-dropped and Sunday Seersucker's for sure-a, will be Pollock-spotted
masterpiece canvases - but in tossed EGG-tempera!
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