So I decided to grab the bull by the horns, today I would make breakfast, and Mom would be proud, damnit.
It started simply enough, Toast. I put the bread into the toaster oven, turned the knob, and walked away.
The next part of my meal required more preparation; bacon. Now I knew from various BoyScout campouts that bacon was a bit like that stoner friend everyone has; fun, but leaves a huge mess for you to clean up. Because of this I decided that to minimize the cleanup time, I would instead cook bacon on the grill outside, and just leave the nasty grease for dad to clean up later. While I proceeded to cook my bacon, pleased with the progress I was making towards being an adult, I heard my Dad cursing from the kitchen, screaming about his "goddamn retard of a son". Now my dad rarely swears without it being either mine of my brother's fault, so I ran upstairs hoping to see what my idiot brother did. It was on the staircase leading up to my house (I live in a duplex) that I smelled smoke.
Walking into the room I saw my dad angrily holding what looked like soggy charcoal, but I knew it was my toast. My dad pointed at the toaster with a look of disapproval, and that's when I noticed it. Now on my toaster there are two knobs, a toast knob, and a bake know that goes up to 450F. Apparently I had attempted to make toast at 450F, and nearly succeeded in setting the house on fire. It was at this point I remembered the bacon.
Running downstairs with all the speed that a 250 pound computer nerd could, I arrived at the grill to find something conspicuously missing; the bacon. I searched the ground and stuck the spatula through the coals, but to no avail. The bacon was gone forever.
With the shame of defeat hanging above my head, I decided the better option was to eat cold pizza, as there was no way I could screw that up.
It tasted like failure.
