My Precious

It's a cold Saturday morning and I'm venturing into unknown territories.  Could be the last time I wake up at 7 for ultimate.  I arrive at the Argyle stop off the Redline 15 minutes early.  Gotta kill time- and I'm hungry.  In seconds I find my utopia, with great golden packages hanging by their necks in the window.  I press my face, my hands, against the cold glass for further inspection.  I get yelled at.  Didn't understand a word of it.

I've arrived at Sun Wah BBQ, one of the finest Chinese establishments in the city.  There's not enough time to do these birds justice- I vow to return.  Still hungry.  The Chiu Quon bakery across the street will do- fresh steamed BBQ pork buns are delicious and portable.  Game time.

Hours later I return- muddy, bloody, and most importantly hungry.  As the moon begins to chase the sun into hiding, I limp over to the window.  After all, I have a vow to uphold.  I approach the counter, no menu needed.  I point to what I want and order, "That."  How much?  "Half."  No cash.  Darling tells me I can use my credit card on orders of $12 or more, which happens to be the price of a whole duck.  Sacrifices have to be made.

I make my way back home and tear apart the bag (teeth may or may not have been used).  Why did they have to staple it closed?  No time for silverware and certainly no time for napkins.  My precious awaits.  Golden and crispy, Michelangelo could not have captured her beauty.  The inside is perfectly cooked.  Teeming with jus there's no need for dipping sauce.  Could be considered blasphemous.  

There's brown bag confetti on the ground and drippings all over the table.  As I start to chew on a piece of neck, which I'm very glad was included, I realize only five minutes have passed.  The decadent meat and fat has made great ways through my system- feels like the duck is hugging my soul.  I look at the pile of bones and am thankful there's still another half to go through.  

Pulled a negative split- second half didn't take as long.  Most importantly, my calorie deficit is beaten, for now.  I recover the drippings to the best of my ability for later use- most likely an omelet in the morning.  I live alone so cleanup can wait.  I'm tired and the sink is too far away.  Paper towels the same distant dream.  Don't want to get grease on the couch.  Looks like another night on the [hardwood] floor.