My Sunday morning breakfast included a delicious lil' turkey sausage. I carefully cut my sausage, peppering the pieces to further enhance the meaty delight. A little too eager to indulge, I poked the sausage nib at such a velocity that it flew off of my plate, bouncing off of my chest and onto the carpet.
My table-mates chuckled. Aw, shucks!
"Not to worry!" exclaimed Pat, the PCA (food police/ table babysitter).
She ran to the kitchen.
A moment later, the head chef returned with a small bowl. Inside the bowl, hot off the grill, was a perfectly sliced turkey nib.
I was tempted not to eat it; I simply could not fit even another nib in. Somehow, I pushed through.
Reminds me of the song "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball (or in this case, sausage nib)....
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