Acerbic Resonance

There’s no substitute for a good subtitle.

que⋅sa⋅dil⋅la [keɪ səˈdi ə, key-suh-dee-uh]

Slumped over his laptop, the man worked and slaved, productively producing productive preponderances of product.

Then he got hungry.

“meh – dinner”, he muttered as he sulked into the kitchen.  Lights on.  Fridge open.  Hmm…. what do we have here.

Yogurt.  Yogurt for dinner.  Hmm.  Wife not likely like yogurt for dinner.

Eggs.  More promising.  Requires cooking.  Possible fire hazard.  Onto the counter they go.

Cheese.  Requires knife.  Possible stitches. Worth the risk?  Onto the counter.

Tortilla shells.  Onto the counter they go as well.

Pan.  He needs a pan.  Proud of himself for finding one after digging about in only 3 cupboards, the man turns on the stove and scrambles and seasons the eggs, then tosses some grated cheese onto a tortilla shell, then a layer of eggs, then more cheese.  Into the pan it goes.

Wait a bit.  Man hates waiting.


Wait a bit more.

Remove from pan, slice, serve.



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