To the BATMOBILE

Thursday, April 27, 2006

gastronomical delights

I never knew cheese could evaporate... Not till my mother decided to serve up a hotdog with a slice of Cheesedale which obviously overstayed what it was due in the microwave by several weeks. One can't complain though, it was a welcome intervention from one of my million A Math practice papers... Such was the incohorent state of consciousness I was in that I mindlessly devoured the majority of it (badly burst weiner right down to the extremely out of place chutney "sauce" - us superheroes develop strange taste...) only pausing to notice the melted cheese, having lost all semblance of viscousity and thus dripping onto my right boxer leg (sounds weird but I believe that is the proper term. Thigh, anyone?).

What was most disturbing about my mid-morning meal was that while Cheesedale cheese (and all forms of cheese for that I know) usually hardens within the next five minutes of being heated, what I consumed seemed to have taken on the properties of something more... Extra-terrestial?

*Typing becomes irregular as green tentacles start growing from the tips of his fingers*

TO THE BATMOB...

"Hold on!" Devouted fans may cry out in dissatisfaction, having felt cheated of a proper development into the topic of Butlerman's choice.

As no such entity actually exists...

TO THE BATMOBI...

"But what if one actually does?" The thought bothers to surface in my mind.
Stupid thought.

I have 3 clear paths to take into the crazed wilderness that is my writing.
1) I could write about food.
2) I could write about my lack of literary ability and attempt to correct it to make that "devout fan" character exist.
3) I could finish of the remaining LE of BATMOBILE and go watch Lost.

Like any headstrong superhero, I carelessly toss away the most sensible option (number 3) and decide to go crashing through the remaining two paths aimlessly and run myself into a few trees (literary representations of Writer's Block. How deep) and get exotic birdshit on/in my head (representative of my writing. I could not think of anything deeper - thus falling back on what I watched, reminiscent of my traumatic childhood experience of watching George of the Jungle).

Talking about melted cheese, unrecognisably exploded sausages, and/or exotic birdshit (I'm not too sure about you, but it sure puts me in the mood for more food...), I found myself in Serene Centre's MacDonalds sometime this evening, having felt slightly peckish after A Maths tuition (whereever A Math is concerned, my rate of digestion quadruples) and greatly desiring to purchase at the very least, a McChicken. Oh sodium galore.

Unfortunately as I vigorously opened my mouth to order (hard to explain, but vigorous nonetheless), a glance into my wallet to dish out the money needed to purchase such a tantalizing snack revealed that I could only afford to spare one dollar. The words "One grossly salty, oily and fat-filled, yet oh-so-tasty McChicken" caught in my throat, and all I could manage was to avoid wheezing like a deflated balloon and made my way out of the queue muttering a lame excuse that I was late for... something. My ACS badge promptly turned black, shrivelled and vapourised, having found my being unworthy of something representing an obscenely rich family of schools.

Unfortunate. Even more unfortunate is the fact my Geography remains half untouched with my exam but 12 hours away. Screw that devout fan I say. Superheroes have no time for fanclubs (I may live to regret my decision - but so will I when I get back my results at this rate).

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 2:38 pm
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