I think I can tell you this because you won't tell anyone else. So, Shhhh.
My favorite animal is steak. I love the way they talk to me, sort of a sizzly sounding voice. And that intoxicating aroma! I would rub my nose in their essence if I wasn't concerned about 4th degree burns to my face.
Steaks are hard workers; perfectionists, in fact, if you don't keep on eye on them. On a rare occasion, I get distracted on some task that demands my immediate attention away from my delicious friends. When I return to my beloved steak and ask, "Are you done?", it always replies, "Well done!". Oh no.
Sometimes, my juicy, red steaks aren't around when I need them. I meant to bring them home but I couldn't. Such a sad time. I hate miss steaks like that. Sometimes, my budget tells me to avoid them for the moment. Sometimes, the store only has the blue-green ones that I'm allergic too. (For some reason, my love can't overcome the sickness they unintentionally give me.)
But the ones that make it home bring so much joy. They don't mind patiently waiting in my freezer until I come for them. Then they rest contently in the safety of my warming pan. I'm always entertained by their favorite performance trick of being flipped.
Thank goodness, I'm a vegetarian. Otherwise, I wouldn't have the respect that I do for my meaty friends ... or the extreme leaning towards the sun.
Shhhh, don't tell anyone.
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Thank you, Cheryl, for inspiring this post. I'm sorry.
1 comment:
Ha ha... a cross post. I just left a reply over at my blog with a little graphic for you. I would post it here but there isn't a place to attach it.
Very funny take on anthropomorphizing things.
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