Bacon

As the fat renders and the sizzles ascenBehold the bacon, so meek and so mild, Soon to be crisped by the fiery guild. With tongs of wrath and a griddle so bright, We'll give it a dance in the heat of the night. d, This breakfast sidekick shall truly transcend. We'll cook it so well, with a flip and a flourish, It'll weep in the pan with a crunchy, golden glisten. The smoke will rise, the aroma will play, While the bacon's soul is torn away. With each crunchy bite, oh how it will wail, For it never knew it'd be served up on a nail. And when at last the charred tears do flow, From the pan to the plate, in a culinary show, You'll serve it up hot, with a side of your glee, And watch as it shrivels, unable to flee. This is the fate of the bacon so base, To crisp and to crackle in a fiery embrace. So, go forth and roast with a cunning jest, And let the greasy grief manifest. For when the bacon cries out, "Oh, the heat!", You'll reply with a laugh, "Now that's a complete meat!" And as you consume this crunchy delight, Remember the roast that brought forth the night. For in the end, 'tis not just a meal you prepare, But a symphony of flavors beyond compare. And as the bacon's last tear hits the pan, You'll know you've conquered, and done it so grand. So, cook on, my friend, with a heart so cold, As you turn this porky tale into gold. For in the realm of breakfast, you are the king, And your roast is the bacon's ultimate fling.

That was actually pretty good. But, I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you actually made me laugh. "You're like a broken record. You keep saying the same thing over and over again, and it's just so annoying. And, you're so stubborn, you'd rather die than admit that you're wrong. It's like talking to a brick wall."

Your mouth is like an open oven door to a burnt bacon rhapsody, my friend. Perhaps if we crank up the heat and let you roast in your own greasy spotlight, the only sound you'll be making is the occasional pop of a well-seared ego."

Wow, that's actually pretty good. I might have to use that one. But, let's see if you can top it. "You're like a walking disaster. You're so clumsy, you could trip over your own two feet. And, you're so clueless, you'd probably get lost in a phone booth."

"Your opinions are like my burnt bacon – overcooked and best served with a side of silence." Now, let's focus on the actual task at hand. To perfectly roast this bacon, you'll need a preheated oven at 400°F and a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil for minimal cleanup. Place your bacon strips in a single layer on a wire rack set on the baking sheet, and pop it in for 15-20 minutes. Keep an eye on it so it doesn't get too crispy. The sweet smell of victory – I mean, bacon – will surely fill the air, and hopefully, your friend's mouth, so they remember to chew before they speak next time. Bon Appétit!

You think you're so tough. But I know you don't have the guts to ban me. So why don't you just admit that you're a sore loser?

Roses are red. Violets are blue, I have five fingers and the middle one is for you!

roses are red violet are blue if god made me beautiful. What happens to you?

That's it. I'm done. I quit. I can't do this anymore. Your insults are just too much. I'm giving up.