The Delicous Beast

You look down at your meal, and there it is. The masterpiece of meat, the creamiest of corn, and the toastiest of Texans. You must decide how to go. Should you add condiments? Will it make it better? You reach for the ketchup and slather it over that creamy corn of yours, putting a few plops next to your heavenly rare steak. You are on to your second decision now. What to to begin with, you ask yourself. Which utensil will give you the scrumptious blessing. You reach for your fork and knife sliding them easily into the glowing juicy piece of meat. You cut and make a specimen that is ready to be pronged. You prick it with your fork and marinate it in your ketchup pool. It airplanes into your mouth, a mouth that can not be farther on the edge of its seat. Chewing and tasting you glow as you eat. Nothing could be better. Cut after cut you have, intermingling each with some of the corn which smoothly slides onto your fork. All together it tastes like a wonderful party of flavors, with a texture that molds itself to your mouth. You want more but have to instead sorrowfully look on as your steak is gone, and those around you still partake in theirs.

To remedy the lack of beauty in your mouth you know you must eat your Texan. You look at your piece with its reflective face and know it's not complete. You use your fork and knife to masterfully spill the corn and ketchup onto the Texas Toast. It glows tan, yellow, and red all at once. You take your first crunchy bite tasting cheese, garlic, bread, ketchup, and corn all together. They saute in you. You take your next bite, it is a little softer but has that beautiful grouping still. You mourn the loss of one your Texas Toasts but you look with glee at your plate still having one left. You copy your last moves doing the same, pushing every last bit of your corn onto the alluring ship. Once again the flavors combine into a mouth party that sends out enough dopamine to make a walrus feint. You look. You look and see only kernels left. Those last few bites of corn you finish. You are done. There is no more. But satisfied you will always be.

-Ian