Just because I can’t afford to eat at a restaurant, that doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what fine food tastes like. I really know what it tastes like! I’ve looked in the windows of steak houses and soup kitchens so many times that I’m practically an expert. Come with me now, as I share my recent experience eating a filet mignon… in my mind!

As I sit down, a waiter asks me what I would like to drink. Would I prefer red water or yellow-ish water? I’ve watched enough people eating delicious food to know that the red water goes better with steak. If I was having chicken or a Snickers, I would obviously choose the yellow. After a moment, the waiter comes back with the red. I can already smell its aroma; the scent of a Fruit Roll Up and breakfast with my parents. They don’t talk to me anymore.

What would I like to eat? As if one needed to ask! Everyone knows that the filet mignon is the best steak. That’s the last thing I read a few days ago on the menu at an actual restaurant, before they realized how I live my life and took the menu back. But back to the waiter, who is waiting for my order: ”Excellent choice, sir! I see you are a steak expert.” I just smile and think to myself, “If only you knew, but it’s my secret.”

A pre-dinner plant

Next comes the plant. After placing the plant in front of me, the waiter pours some dirty water on it and leaves. You might not know this, but eating a plant before dinner is a ritual dating back to when all meals were eaten on the streets. You have no idea how many plants one eats when one must eat what they find in the streets. You have no idea. Despite how disgusting the practice is, we must continue the tradition out of respect for the poor fools who do not know how to eat a fine meal. You should feel very sorry for them, even though they are beneath you.

With the plant eaten, I can hardly contain myself. A few agonizing minutes later, my filet mignon has arrived. The waiter asks me if he can bring anything else. A trick question! I already have the steak. Waiters ask that question to see if you recognize that it is the steak you ordered. If you can’t tell, they throw you out and kick your behind. “You don’t belong here! Out! Out!” I’ve seen that happen far too many times. It’s a good thing I know what a filet mignon looks like; blackish-brown with a blue tint and stripes. The filet mignon comes from a striped cow.

I'm pretty sure this is a restaurant

I take my first bite, and the sandy texture is exactly what I imagined. As I continue chewing, the steak turns into a fine, powdery grain which I swallow with ease. I find the experience similar to eating sawdust that one may or may not find at construction sites that I break in to. The steak keeps getting hotter as it sits, so I have to cool it down with steak sauce. The sauce I choose is the most delicious on the market, a mixture of chocolate, crumbs, and red water.

I finish my steak, and quickly feel the “steak rush”, a contented feeling that reminds me I am not a disgusting human being. I ask the waiter to bring the check, but he has turned into a giant Snickers bar! My comfortable chair feels more like a wet cardboard box, and the other patrons begin to scurry around like ants. One patron crawls onto my hand, and I quickly flick him away. The ant-patrons descend upon my Snickers-waiter, who, as he is devoured, cries out, “You’re going nowhere!”

My mind will need some time to rest after creating such a delicious meal. Who needs the real thing? I’m certainly content enough to eat Snickers and ants until my brain stops hurting. When it does, I invite you to come back to my gourmet world and learn from my culinary expertise. Until next time!

Creative Commons photo credits:
hzeller, Simon Aughton, danperry.com