This wouldn't be the first nonhuman entity he's gotten introduced ( and potentially addicted to ) mortal food, considering the small army of Little Folk he's buying deep dish for on the reg. Waffle House is worth it, though. Soooooo worth it, ugh. All Star Special, wait for him, he'll be home soon. Dresden slops more celery juice all over the place, abruptly forgetting he's even got it in his hands in favor of gesticulating excitedly about the general size and shape of a plateful. A big ol' plateful
" — there's this one I sometimes go to out in West Beverly when I'm passing through, okay? Picture this. Fat stack of waffles, nice and golden. Latticed to perfection. Scoop of butter on the side. Syrup dispenser's so sticky you can barely slide the top open, but you know that means it's the good shit. Hash browns soggy on the bottom, cheese n' onion on top. Wet scrambled eggs — though, be honest, they're better a little browned. Floppy bacon. Buttered toast. Grits, oh Star's I'm hungry —"
He breaks his fast monologue ( ughhhhh ) with a groan, setting the health kick cup down on the nearby table so he can really get into it.
"Waffle House, man. It's for people who just want the first meal of the day to be held in a building absolutely laden with yellowing neon lights and plastic booth seats that stick to your skin even when you're in full pants and every local paramedic's trying to get strung out on the weakest coffee known to man. It's the best.
The egg sandwiches are actually Egg McMuffins and they're from Maccas — hey, you wanna sit down before we get deep in the paint about this?"
help me, his icon
This wouldn't be the first nonhuman entity he's gotten introduced ( and potentially addicted to ) mortal food, considering the small army of Little Folk he's buying deep dish for on the reg. Waffle House is worth it, though. Soooooo worth it, ugh. All Star Special, wait for him, he'll be home soon. Dresden slops more celery juice all over the place, abruptly forgetting he's even got it in his hands in favor of gesticulating excitedly about the general size and shape of a plateful. A big ol' plateful
" — there's this one I sometimes go to out in West Beverly when I'm passing through, okay? Picture this. Fat stack of waffles, nice and golden. Latticed to perfection. Scoop of butter on the side. Syrup dispenser's so sticky you can barely slide the top open, but you know that means it's the good shit. Hash browns soggy on the bottom, cheese n' onion on top. Wet scrambled eggs — though, be honest, they're better a little browned. Floppy bacon. Buttered toast. Grits, oh Star's I'm hungry —"
He breaks his fast monologue ( ughhhhh ) with a groan, setting the health kick cup down on the nearby table so he can really get into it.
"Waffle House, man. It's for people who just want the first meal of the day to be held in a building absolutely laden with yellowing neon lights and plastic booth seats that stick to your skin even when you're in full pants and every local paramedic's trying to get strung out on the weakest coffee known to man. It's the best.
The egg sandwiches are actually Egg McMuffins and they're from Maccas — hey, you wanna sit down before we get deep in the paint about this?"