Consider the featured image a taste of 2018 even as I sneak back in here, shamelessly, after a century of no writings on the wall. Readers have been incessantly asking for me to show them a sign. I swear I have been focusing on being able to buy myself lots of food without running out of currency right after playing Golf and a few unlucky damsels in distress. Sigh.


The steak pictured on their banners is so delicious you hope their plates are also edible and crunchy. I perch myself onto a seat and before I can make an attempt to measure my appetite the waitress expeditiously emerges from.. I don’t know where. Before she hands me the Menu am forced to ask if they serve Manna here because it seemed like she was either heaven sent or she fell from the sky. Was she following me… Had God finally sent my way a worthy, liberated woman who loves food as much as I do? Was she part of the menu? Because she showed up on my table looking like a snack.
I was there for the some grilled flank marinated steak and I wasn’t about to lose focus and find a human being amusingly palatable. I order the steak and she asks how i want it done. I tell her I want it cooked with love, affection and enough loyalty to spark intimacy with my stomach. Ooh and it should be candid enough to blend with my gastric juices. Her jaw has dropped on the floor by now and i really want to pick it up for her. So I tell her I want my steak well cooked… Just to cut out the jargon and my insatiable brouhaha. Because if I wanted raw meat I would be in a ranch biting some meat off a damn cow’s thigh. But I was in Spur steak Ranches where there’s a taste of life in dead animals. I hope none of you rescues animals in their free time.
She asks me if I need anything cold to drink because am already sweating in anticipation of the steak grand arrival. I tell her a Man’s not hot. Furthermore I already have a cold girlfriend.


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