The Breakfast Battle

  Steven stepped out into the kitchen in his bathrobe for breakfast again as he had done every morning for the past six years (i.e., since he bought a bathrobe). A morning routine had been established so that he could conserve a miniscule amount of mind power every day that he subconsciously hoped would pay off one day that the world actually needed him. Glass out, half filled, (still half empty though), with water, two drinks, open the fridge, pull out the egg carton, and then the mind had to work slightly.

  What sort of eggs would be cooked today? Such a difficult question every morning. His mind chose sausage and eggs as today’s winner. The refrigerator would have to be opened again, but Steven’s body would get over it. The actual cooking was set into routine anyway, so the mind could effectively press the snooze button.

  After the cooking, the table was set. The tongue took over at this point, given rare power while the mind was still in “routine” mode. But tongues are surprisingly racist and quarrel often with the mind (once you really get to know them, you’ll find out). The tongue condemned the sausage and eggs as too mixed for his liking, and began to rebel against the mind’s command that they should be eaten. After the first bite passed through the mouth, the tongue set Steve’s hangover response back in to drive, forcing Steve to lose his appetite and return to drinking more pure water. Steve cleaned his plate straight into the sink disposal as his tongue claimed victory. The mind would simply have to wait until later that night for vengeance as it forced Steve to eat hot pizza and numb the tongue. The rivalry between tongue and mind would never end.