French Toast

It is of the utmost importance that you allow me to purchase you a sturdy leather belt. It ought to be thick and wide. Speak nothing of the cost nor feign polite reticence, I am good for it. Modify the strap with the most outlandish Texas buckle and I will happily absorb the damage. When the bill is due, close your eyes. They should remain so throughout this entire process. Once properly sinched, you will notice the weight of your front pockets increase as they load up with sugar. Then your hind pockets will gradually overflow with cinnamon. Feel free to adjust the notch. We are not done. The sun is abusive and I will not allow it to victimize you. Two sticks of butter to coat your arms and face. Ultraviolet light has never smelled so enticing. Your hair used to shine with irresistible luster. We need to get that back. So do not chide as I break four eggs over the crown of your head. Necessity can be messy. Keep your eyes shut. Why should they sting? I have not added salt to the yoke. This is all very new, so for the sake of comfort I will flush out your vision with milk. It will neutralize any agitation real or imagined. You are strongly encouraged to drink the rest. Nothing goes to waste. Luck dictates that you throw a pinch of iodine behind your shoulder. I will perform the ritual. If you should get accidently sprinkled, it will no doubt come out in the wash. Calm your protest and stifle your questions. Surely this does not exceed a daily beauty regimen. What I put you through is nothing shy of a standard spa day. All this standing has probably made you weary. To my left is a lawn chair stretched out for relaxation. To my right is a pit of hot coals prepared for confidence building faith walks. Now take a well deserved break and lay down. I do hope the poor girl understands that when two people face each other, directions crisscross. She'll figure it out.