“Dig in!” ZigZag leans forward, his hands crossed, looking intently at my omelet. It smells good. It has a lumpy appearance. I pick up my fork, and start to unfold it.
“Uh uh!” ZigZag holds up one hand. “You don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
He looks furtively in the direction of the kitchen, then leans closer and says in a hoarse whisper.
“Sometimes they leave the feet on.”
Feet? I swallow, setting my resolve. I really don’t want to know what is in a road kill omelet. I’ll just pretend it is country sausage, or Spam. I cut a bite, spear it on the fork, and put it in my mouth. I start to chew.
I nod. “It’s good.”
“There you go! The unknown – it can be fabulous!” With that, ZigZag leans back on his bench, takes a long swallow of his coffee, and lights another cigarette.
“People fear the unknown, Mike. Why? It’s all around us, and just like a good breakfast, it is tasty, and nourishing. Don’t be afraid of the unknown – tear into it, cut off big pieces, and savor it. More often than not, you’ll love it!”