You are the chef, and you are aware of your intensions, you have people to impress. Season me with the flavor of your love, give me sweet satire and ready me for the roast. Treat me tenderly and handle with precision. Flour me up with misconception. Blind me from the truth and once I’ve had my time to soak in the egg wash that gives me a touch of clarity; Bring out your finest cast iron and heat the oil to a temperature as boiling as my blood. Lay me down in the heat, give me a fighting chance. Roll me around so that I finish in a toast. It’s time, I’m ready, cut me up with your sharpest knives and present me on a bed of anguish. You have succeeded… In the recipe for disaster.