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Welcome to the world of extreme haiku

A single Eggo

Pockets gleaming with syrup

My toaster loves me

I simply have no patience for people who refuse to recognize that Eggo waffles are a gift from God, like a newborn kitten just opening its eyes, or morning dew on a beautiful rose. The fact that I can walk into my kitchen at one in the morning and return triumphantly less than two minutes later with a piping hot waffle makes any complaints I have about my life and society at large seem trivial. They pale in the face of waffle-bliss. Waffle-nirvana. Waffle- osity. You get the idea.

On a closing note: this is most likely the last post I make about waffles. Well, ok, I guess if you really wanted more I could accommodate you, but Id be forced to first ask, “who are you?”

Posted in Musings.


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