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Published:November 1st, 2011 10:11 EST
Bacon Bacon Bacon: Night of the Sizzling Dead

Bacon Bacon Bacon: Night of the Sizzling Dead

By Rocco Loosbrock

It was late in the night and the lights were all out in the house. I felt a rolling sensation right behind my belly button. That familiar growling sound escaped from the depths of my stomach as I tossed and turned in my bed. I knew I would not be able to go to sleep with this unavoidable hunger scratching at the insides of my belly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. Crisp, salty, thick slices of gorgeous and tongue tantalizing bacon.

Earlier that day at lunch, I watched my friend order a BLT with extra bacon. He even pulled out of his pocket, a small plastic container. Which, at first glance, I thought was salt. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was Bacon Seasoning!

Extra bacon and bacon seasoning? I could feel the saliva filling up in my mouth. I watched him sprinkle the seasoning over the lettuce and tomato. He then slapped his sandwich back together, raised it to his lips, and began to devour it while my fork laid lifelessly in my hand. Suddenly, the salad I ordered was as appealing as a bowl of maggots and puss.

The nerve.

Didn`t he know I was trying this diet thing? Suddenly I developed an image of me smacking him against the head with my salad bowl, lettuce leaves sprawling out into the wind, and fork scudding across the ground. Grabbing his sandwich, I begin shoving the thick, savory slices of meat candy into my mouth, as his head lay upon our lunch table; silent and unmoving.

Alas, that never happened. I allowed him a peaceful and happy lunch of extra bacon. And now I was paying for my lunch salad mishap. I thought long and hard about what I had in the kitchen. I had cooked Boss Hog Honey BBQ bacon in the freezer. I knew that all I had to do was pop that in the microwave. But then there was that package of Bacon Jerky I had hidden in the high reaches of my pantry. The Bacon Jerky was ready to go. No microwave needed.

My stomach let out a loud growl of affirmation. I couldn`t handle it any longer. Throwing up the fluffy white down-filled comforter and tossing aside my beloved bacon pillow; I slipped on my piggy slippers and proceeded to shuffle into the kitchen. It was dark and quiet throughout the house. I didn`t want to turn on any lights because my guilty mind felt I was being less mischievous if I cheated in the dark. Although concealment was key, I still needed to see. I grabbed the flashlight on the kitchen counter, switched it on, and opened the pantry door. I unfolded the little wooden ladder at the foot of the walk-in pantry and climbed to the top. I could see the Peppered Bacon Jerky package on the top shelf, peeking out from behind a pack of bacon pancake mix. As I reached up and pulled down the pancake mix, I heard a thump outside my kitchen window. I paused. BOOM. More forceful and louder this time, I jumped; fumbled with the pancake mix, and dropped my flashlight as puffs of powdery mix spilled out onto my face. I heard a soft squealing noise as my flashlight rolled along the tile kitchen floor. It stopped rolling, then rocked back and forth; the beam of light flashing along the walls. It then rested to a stop and highlighted something peering at me through my kitchen window.

There, on my neatly manicured front lawn, was a beast much larger than any of its kind. It must have been the size of a bear! It had flopped pink ears, a squiggly tail, large red eyes, and an enormous snout. The snout had a red, wet substance smeared across its pink skin. It looked to be blood. I could see its hot breath in the cold night air as it exhaled. With large, crimson eyes, it scanned my kitchen carefully until they found me. The calculating eyes narrowed as it focused on me reaching for the Peppered Bacon Jerky.

It let out an enormous growl that slightly resembled a baritone squeal. As it growl-squealed, I saw sharp incisors the size of my fist. Blood dripped from the fangs and onto its pink chest. The crimson eyes became fiercer and seemed to glow. The beast was morbidly grinning at me. It was huge; its "squeal" shaking the glass of my windows. Saliva dripped down the corners of its mouth, ironically reminding me of the way I drooled over my friend`s bacon sandwich earlier that day. It was only a matter of time when it would lunge at me from behind my patch of begonias. Shakily, I grabbed the large butcher knife on the lower shelf of the pantry closet. I checked my exists. I didn`t have any. My stomach growled again, this time almost as loud as the beast`s. I then smiled too. I was hungry. And man, that thing would make a seriously good amount of delicious slabs of the other white meat.

Suddenly, I heard the glass shatter. I tightened my grip on the knife. It was time.