Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash: Pick Two (aghrivaine) wrote,
Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash: Pick Two

Bacon mirage

My boss (an intriguing character worthy of his own entry) just bought a bunch of us lunch at the local Indian place. As is typical after a big lunch (and I packed away the calories like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter) I was pretty sleepy an hour later. Taking a nap is not an option, so tea from the samovar (previously reported on, in an entry with far fewer paranthetical asides...) it neccessarily had to be.

Alas, the samovar had failed in one of its two duties, piping hot tea. It was still doing quite fine at its second duty, which is to occupy the break room in gleaming Imperial splendor. But the tea was weak and tepid, evidently nobody bothered to make more. So I poured out the last of it, and looked at the curious box sitting next to the sparkling samovar.

And then I saw it.

The button I have longed for in a device for lo, these many years. Ever since, as a matter of fact, the Bacon Apotheosis, which has been immortalized in film and music, of course. Anyway, there was the button. The button that said, "Bacon. (one slice)"

The tantalizing promise of such a button! I could press it, and out would pop a slice of bacon! Indeed, it almost logically MUST follow, that if I pressed it twice, two slices of bacon would emerge. Oh happy day, oh frubjous day! Bacon bacon bacon, and all at the press of a button!

I pressed the button. The machine hummed, and a light lit. There was a cheerful ding. I opened the door. No bacon.

Well, trouble-shooting is definitely one of my strengths as a technician, so I thought about it. Newton was pretty clear on the whole "matter is neither created nor destroyed" thing, so I reasoned that perhaps it needed a mass somewhat equivalent to one slice of bacon in order to produce said porktabulous product. I put in my mug, filled with tepid tea. I'd gladly trade a mug of tepid tea for a slice of hot, sizzling bacon!

Again the machine lit up and hummed. This time I heard a faint rattling sound, as of the mug being transmogrified into sweet, succulent bacon. With a soaring heart, I opened the door after the cheerful ding. No bacon, just a mug.

Eagerly, I checked within the mug, thinking perhaps it was the TEA that had been changed into bacon in a sort of porkulicious alchemy. But no, just tea. I discovered, however, that the tea was slightly hotter than it had previously been. Subsequent attempts at summoning bacon from the vasty deeps (Oh aye, you can call bacon from the vasty deeps, but when you call, does it come?) resulted in a piping hot cup of tea.

So, I have learned that attempting and failing to summon bacon is an endothermic process. Thus, although the button did not delivery the joy that was promised, it did have a useful side-effect, which I will take advantage of in the future. Always with the hope, of course, that bacon will appear.

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