The Dream With The Feast

I had a dream last night that I was walking around and I came to an open-air eating area. I saw a large, wealthy family eating breakfast at a huge dining table just loaded with delicious food, including plates stacked with thick bacon and mounds of breakfast sausages. I went and sat alone at a different table at a distance, watching them. I noticed that one of the young women at the table was someone I knew (her name's Kayla). I hatched a brilliant plan to gain her attention. I reached into my backpack and pulled out the only food in my possession--a single slice of white bread. It was a crusty end piece, and I ate it slowly, making sure to leave the crusty side visible at all times. I never glanced in her direction, of course, but just kept taking sad bites from my crust of bread.

At this time, another friend of mine, Gary Allen, just happened to walk by and saw me munching on my sad little slice. "What are you eating?" he asked. "A ghetto breakfast bar," I answered. He grabbed it from my hands, took a couple of huge bites out of it, and handed it back to me. While I stood there staring at him, completely dumbfounded at his monumental douchiness, Kayla had appeared at my table. "Hi guys," she said.

I turned to look at her, acting surprised to see her. "Oh, hey," I said.

"My family is eating over at that table," she explained, pointing to the Promised Land of succulent breakfast awesomeness. "We have way too much food so I was wondering if you guys would like to come and eat with us."

Before I could even respond, Gary had launched off like a feast-seeking missile. I scrambled to collect my possessions and take off after him, filled with a heady sense of accomplishment at the effectiveness of my scheme. I am a pathetic genius.