It feels like I’ve been nibbling crackers for the last fourteen years. When I come home I’d like to spend at least six months consuming, devouring, gobbling, wolfing, gorging, overeating, massive chomping, I mean full on gluttony. Set me lose on a buffet, a smorgasbord, fine dining with real silverware and knives, hell I settle for a chuck wagon. Next, you must wet one’s whistle by gulping, swigging, guzzling to quench this dryness deep in my gullet.

I want to live inside an ice cream parlor, devouring, consuming everything in site like: cream puffs, custard pie, and yummy cobbler topped with blackberry scones. I’ll scarf blueberry waffles, crepes and banana splits with cannoli dipped in buttermilk. Ummm buttermilk.

After blowing out the cobwebs from my tummy by this enormous fodder, this binging to refresh the inner man, I’ll feel rejuvenated, revived and nourished. Then standing firmly on top of the roof, hands on hips looking to the sky, I’ll speak with spunk, gusto, pep, pizzazz…Woooooo–Hooooooo!

Love You All,

Marshall Byers