Ernestine chewed at her bottom lip as she

Ernestine chewed at her bottom lip as she pushed the crackling bacon through the greasy froth of fat with the end of her wooden spoon. In her other hand she held

a bar of semi-sweet baker's. Ernestine was at the brink of culinary science. In a few short moments, chocolate bacon would be on everyone's lips. Then the grease fire flared up.

A flame shot up to the exhaust hood igniting the cakes of grease in the filter & soon the kitchen was engulfed. Ernestine took the fire-escape with a proscuitto & smoked chilipotle

po' boy sandwich. It was a goocher. A miracle. A work of art. This fire would not destroy the amazing sandwich. Ernestine coated in creamed horseradish and dove through the flaming

kitchen, burst through the door to the street holding that goocher, miracle, work of art po' boy sandwich aloft like the Liberty torch. But Ernestine was a mess, no doubt about it

waiting to lick up any scraps that she dropped onto the floor but she didn't care. This po'boy was her Everest and she was conquering it like Sherpa's on Meth. "BANG!"

The food police entered and ate all of it, including the aunts looking for uncles on the floor. Plastic pants task force members held their noses as the investigated the odours.

Then the Thought Police burst in arresting everybody for boldly thinking divergent visions. They wiped the whole block out of our history but at the same couldn't, otherwise we

couldn't enjoy this moment together. "Pass me another Nutterbutter Billybob." Dang it another night avoiding the Thought Police & enduring Nutterbutter farts! How'd they miss us?!