As you can gather from the title, todays post went out a little early
happy toast n jam to you
Day: December 2, 2021
Suicide jumping toast
I like toast in the morning
With butter and jam
Washed down with a hot cup of tea
Real comfort food
Reminds me of my childhood
There is however one problem
Mornings are often rushed
Dashing between rooms to get ready
Plate in hand with toast
Inevitably the toast slides off the plate
Like a suicide jumper from a high rise
The toast always somersaults mid dive
So that it lands butter and jam side down
He usually lands on the carpet
Making more mess that a human suicide jumper
My hungry stomach cries foul
I yell a string of obscenities
Jam oozes deep into the carpet fibers
This drama has been going on for decades
I decided it was time to end it
After hours of inventive thoughts
Lots of googling research
And many failed kitchen science experiments
I finally solved this age old problem
I put a piece of kitchen paper on the plate
Before laying the hot toast on top
Thanks to the laws of physics
The toast can no longer slide off
No more toast suicide jumping
It worked great the first few times
I enjoyed my toast while getting dressed and checking emails
Multitasking big bites of toast without even looking
But suddenly the toast tasted really weird
The leaking butter had glued the paper to the toast
I was chewing paper towel stuck to my toast
Back to the drawing board
The suicide jumping toast lives and dies again
No bars on my kitchen window today
I opted for a healthy breakfast today
the oatmeal was thick and steamy
coating my shiny spoon like glue
it tasted rather bland
not exactly the breakfast of champions
my mind wandered to others eating oatmeal today
jail time in England is called porridge
in honor of the unsavory oatmeal dish served behind bars
imagining the inmates morning ritual
overcrowded cells reeking of stale sweat
I took another spoonful of my porridge
it tasted distinctly unpleasant
my next spoonful of porridge was my get out of jail card
I was back in my kitchen as a free man
it did not work for long
Soviet dissidents are fed prison oatmeal called gruel
how apt that it rhymes with cruel
with my next spoonful of gruel
I could feel the biting cold of a Gulag hard labor camp
my muscles ached in sympathy for the overworked political prisoners
my next mouthful of lumpy gruel tasted bitter
how do I escape from this Gulag
a spot of time travel was called for
my mind wandered to ancient times
skilligalee is an old Anglo Saxon oatmeal dish
I plunged my shiny spoon into my skilligalee
imagining those who ate exclusively with wooden spoons
living a simple life off the land and seas
I could see the rolling hills of England
green fields and cloudy skies
my last spoonful of skilligalee tasted like English rain
I checked outside and the sun was still shining
thankfully there were no bars on my kitchen window
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 