DAY ONE

While I slept on, I had apparently landed in some bizarre aisle with eggs, cheese, bacon and muffins. Curiously, it was a frying pan *thwapping* me that awoke me.

 

I was frightened, cold and lonely…so I went back to sleep. Might have had a concussion from the frying pan.

 

 

DAY TWO

It was definitely a concussion. Awoke disoriented, confused and naked! I noticed there were supposedly some pancakes nearby, so I placed a few strategically upon me. Smelled syrup in the air.

 

God, I hope the natives don’t pour some on me thinking I’m a pancake!

 

Tired. So tired. Definitely a concussion.

 

Noticed there’s an egg-sized bump on my head. No egg-shells though.

 

Sleep. Good….

 

 

DAY THREE

I heard rumblings nearby, so I took cover in the brush nearby. Lost my pancakes. That’s when I realized how hungry I was.

 

Looked longingly at the fake pancakes, but couldn’t get to them fast enough. Bunch of malformed humanoids nabbed them. They didn’t use forks, but it looked like some had forked tongues.

 

Better not let them find me!

 

 

DAY FOUR

Smelled like waffles and burnt toast. Followed my nose. Discovered colony of *shudder* morning people!

 

They talked in strange tongues. Think all they said were morning greetings and talked of what they were each eating. The exchange felt cold and unenchanted. Almost drone and artificial.

 

Snuck a waffle and grape. They tasted empty, like gulps of air. Almost choked.

 

 

DAY FIVE

Oranges, donuts, coffee, eggs and hash browns. Morning people…again.

 

Same senseless talk of the obvious – mornings and breakfasts.

 

Didn’t see any champions, nor “breakfasts of…” =p I think their molecules are decaying and those “foods” are supposed to renew them. Should I tell them it’s not working?!

 

Decided it’s best to stay out of sight. Not sure they’re friendly natives.

 

 

DAY SIX

Saw strange yellow, oblong metal box on wheels. Think they called it a bus. Looked like a short one. *gasp*

 

Natives disappeared inside it. Decided to follow. Through muffled mumblings, they seemed restless and insecure, just talking about what to eat for breakfast. One-track mind.

 

Wondered if natives actually know concept of conversation, or if they had truly been stranded so long in what I’m now calling “Aisle Five” that they were clueless.

 

Arrived at strange square teepee. They rushed the doors, almost stampeding each other. This breakfast thing is really beginning to scare me. Must learn more so the illness doesn’t get me.

 

 

DAY SEVEN

Natives whined. Breakfast not there…even in their minds.

 

Followed them. They were like zombies breaking down a door, demanding omelettes and sausages.

 

Some strange being pretended to cook for them, like all the other days thus far. It was air and molecules. I didn’t see any food, but this strange morning sickness they have, must convince the natives there’s food there. It’s all they can talk about!

 

 

DAY EIGHT

Cereal. Milk. Fruits. And some tator tot doing dishes. Again.

 

Curious. No breakfast. No dishes. Yet, somehow, the natives are convinced food and dishes are there.

 

I think they live for it. It’s the only thing that connects them and keeps them going.

 

Hope it’s not a contagious disease!

 

 

DAY NINE

Someone forgot to make breakfast.

 

Natives got ugly --- and uglier! Didn’t know what to do with themselves without breakfast to discuss. They seemed agitated and distraught.

 

 

DAY TEN

Native #7 committed suicide. Left a note. It read, “Where’s my breakfast?! Cannot go on…without…breakfast…”

 

Was a lot of weeping and whining. Again, no breakfast. Worried. So worried.

 

 

DAY ELEVEN

Another native passed away at dawn. Couldn’t take the pressure. He burnt waffles and turned out flat pancakes. The failure was too much to take.

 

Natives still gobbled up the stuff like turkeys. Should I tell them it’s all in their heads and that there is not only no spoon, but no breakfast either?!

 

 

DAY TWELVE

Decided to keep quiet. They still don’t see me, yet curiously, they see non-existent foods. (I want to sell them a bridge. I think they’d buy it! The bridge I own is just as real as their breakfasts. =p)

 

Awoke to smell of things not there. Cream-filled donuts, bagels and cinnamon rolls.

 

Natives couldn’t get enough. Still haven’t said much beyond “morning,” talk of foods and thanking whoever fictitiously cooked or provided it.

 

Performed intense research studies. No trace of actual food found. Nonetheless, natives seem convinced it’s real.

 

 

DAY THIRTEEN

Breakfast burritos. One native said he’d kill for one. Then he did, or thought he did. =p A chicken. They had chicken in their burritos.

 

Natives had each other at “morning,” but couldn’t get past that, so lost each other just as quickly.

 

 

DAY FOURTEEN

Must…resist. Must…stay strong. Must get off godforsaken aisle of fictional breakfasts.

 

Must…remember…real breakfasts…real…c-c-c-con-conversation!

 

 

DAY FIFTEEN

Awoke in a cold sweat in my own bed, “safe and sound.” Feeling like Bobby Ewing on “Dallas” must’ve felt. God what a horrible nightmare that was!!

 

And I’m sooooo incredibly hungry…but for real conversation!

 

Think I’ll skip breakfast…for the rest of my life!

 

 

So…who wants to join me for some real discussion someday……………?! Hmm, forums?

*scratches my chin in thought*

 

 

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