Archive for the category “Having Breakfast”

Having Breakfast XII

The balloon heads seem to laugh in the sketch I drew of them. I hear their ha-ing drawing laughter. The coffee steams in the mug. My mug runneth- Ha-ing Ha-ing the laughter and the heads. There are no heads. I drew them only. Then the coffee and the sight of sizzling bacon and the scent of laughing balloons; there are no balloon heads. They are a sketch. They make no noise. The ha-ing ha-ing drawing laughter; metallic; electronic; not laughter; an alarm clock sound; it is the sound of my alarm clock, and the scent of coffee from the automated maker. It is a single room apartment; a dorm room. A desk and an automated coffee machine; my door is shut and a sketch of balloon heads with happy, laughing faces sits on my dorm-room desk.

Having Breakfast XI

I finish my breakfast and lay the plate aside near my coffee mug. I hit the mug and the liquid covers my desk. The desk is dry. I have the plate in my hand. I lay the plate on the floor beside my chair and drop it too soon. It breaks on the hard-wood floor. I have the plate in my hand. I stand and take my plate to the sink. I return to my desk and take my mug in hand, the cup is too full and I spill coffee. The coffee is frozen. My apartment is warm. I take my mug from its place near my desk and take a drink of warm liquid. My mug is nearly empty. I turn back towards the kitchen and hear the balloon heads laughing, and their strings trailing into the coffee pot. The sketch is on my desk. I turn and go back to the kitchen and pour a fresh cup of coffee. The heads are floating over my desk, then laughing like they’re popping.

Having Breakfast X

I take my plate and go back to my desk and see the balloon heads drifting near the ceiling, laughing. I take my plate to my desk and sit. There’s no fork on my plate. I had placed the fork on my plate. I place the fork on my plate then go back to my desk with my plate where my sketch of the balloon heads sits half finished. I keep the plate on my lap and I eat. The bacon is soft and runs off my plate. I eat from my plate, the bacon is crisp and I cut some egg to eat over toast. The eggs separate back into yolk and white then re-shell and fall to the floor and break. I cut a slice of scrambled egg and eat it with a bite of toast and bacon. My sketches of the balloon heads have happy expressions while they drink coffee and wine through their strings.

Having Breakfast IX

I hear the toaster pop and I stand. I hear the bread finish toasting and I rise. I hear the toast clank and I stand up and go to the kitchen. I take a plate from the cupboard and brush off dust and webs. I’m sure I cleaned yesterday. I take a clean plate from the cupboard and place the toast on the plate. I place the plate on the counter. The plate hovers above the counter and the toast is still in the toaster. I place the plate on the counter to the right of the over, then take up the skillet in my right hand and tip the eggs and bacon onto the plate. The oil covers the plate and drips down onto the counter and over the counter to the floor. The skillet is still on the burner. I take the skillet in my left hand and remove the eggs and bacon with the fork and lay them on the plate. I set the skillet down on the hot burner and the oils ignite. No; there’s no smoke alarm. I set the skillet on a cold burner and turn off the warmer, then take the toast from the toaster and place it on my plate.

Having Breakfast VIII

I cross to my desk and sit with my coffee and place my mug aside and take up a pen to draw the balloon heads. I take my mug of coffee from the counter and cross to my desk while breakfast cooks and I place my coffee aside and sit. I take up a pen. I take up a pen. I draw the balloon heads and they seem to smile and laugh and they drink coffee with their strings. They drink wine with their strings. Then I take up my pen and ink and draw the balloon heads in happy moods as they drink coffee and wine.  I sit down at my desk with my coffee. I set my coffee aside. I begin drawing the balloon heads. I sketch the balloon heads with wide mouths like they’re having a good time; their strings hanging in mugs and cups of wine.

Having Breakfast VI

I beat the eggs in the skillet with a fork, mixing the yolk and the white. I break the yolks and mix them in the skillet with the white. I lay the fork aside and take a loaf of bread from the top of the fridge. I open the bread and remove two slices. I place the slices of bread into the toaster and press the lever down. I press the lever. The toast pops up burnt. No; I press the lever down. I turn and go back the fridge and open the door and pull out the meat drawer and take out a pound of ham. I open the meat drawer and pull out a pound of bacon. I pull a half-eaten pound of bacon out from the meat drawer. I set it on the counter and pull out two slices and place them in the skillet with the eggs. I see the sizzling of oils and the squealing of pigs in pain. I place the bacon on the skillet with the eggs and hear the sizzling and smell the eggs.

Having Breakfast V

Then I turn around and place the skillet on the burner and turn on the heat. Then I turn and place the skillet on the electric burner and watch the burner heat. I turn the burner on and watch the burner heat. I go to the fridge and open the door and there’s nothing in there. I bought two dozen eggs yesterday. I open the door of the refrigerator and pull out three eggs which I place on the counter. I take and knife from the drainer and take the lid of the butter dish. The butter trembles and weeps but I cut her. I open the butter and take a small slice and place it in the pan. The butter dances as it melts and the oil undulates. I cut a slice of butter and place it in the pan where it slowly melts. I twist the pan to spread the oil. I crack each egg one by one into the skillet and crush the shells into them. I break one egg and empty it into the skillet then throw away the shell. I take the eggs one by one and crack them into the skillet laying the shells aside.

Having Breakfast IV

The scent of coffee brewing in the kitchen and I go and stand before the pot and watch the coffee drip into the pot awhile before taking a mug from the cupboard. I pour myself a cup and drink the scent of coffee and taste the black warmth trail down my through and warm my insides. I feel the black warmth trail my veins and head to my eyes and the black trail comes out like the tail of a string. I pull the string and the balloon head- I take a drink of coffee.

Having Breakfast III

I turn towards the door and unlock the bolt, then I grab the handle and twist and step out in the hall and I hear the balloon heads talking and the sounds of eggs and bacon. I place my hand on the door handle and twist and go through the door and twist and go through the door and go through the door and into the hall. I’m not hungry and the sound of coffee brewing in the kitchen and the scent of coffee dripping into the pot. The timer is automatic, fresh coffee each morning.  Black coffee and balloon heads and the pull of the black stuff under my eye. A little black string under my eye I grab the string and pull and a balloon head emerges from my eye, and there are more and dozens that I have to pull out and they laugh and drink coffee through their strings.

Having Breakfast II

I wake to the sound of my alarm clock beeping. My door is shut. I sit up in bed and turn the alarm clock off. I turn the clock off. I stop the noise then lower my legs and cross the room to my closet. I slide the door open and reach for a hanger and remove a black shirt. I hate black. No funerals. I don’t own a black shirt. I slide open the door. I wore my jeans to bed; I only need a shirt. I reach in and pull out a red shirt. Red is a better color. I slide open the closet door and pull out a red shirt. I put it on. I need jeans to wear and pull a pair from the upper shelf. I remove my cotton night pants and pull my jeans on.  I pull my blue jeans on.

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