A Feast From The East

Greetings, My Little Meat Minions, let's get into it. 

Ali Hobson traveled by metal bird from the far off land of New York City. She landed amongst the forestry and liberal mindset that defines the upper left corner of the continental United States. She was disoriented and a wee bit scared but she had a trick up her sleeve. For you see, Ali Hobson is a mystical meat magician.

My lady homie, Mad Dog Maddie Weber, first swept Ali into my life. The pair, who had become acquainted during high school, decided to reunite their camaraderie in the city that I call home. When I first met Ali, or Alibaba as her magician friends call her, she seemed like a normal muggle to me. It was not until her last night in town, while down at Richard Goodfellow’s shire, that she revealed to me her true identity. On the plateFULL night of her grand unveiling it was just me, Mad Dog Maddie, HairMaster Seth, Guru Andrew and of course, Richard Goodfellow. As we assembled we spit and spat about this and that until Ali gathered our motley crew tight around her and spoke in hush tones. She told us of her culinary shamanism and a devious plan to leave our taste buds tongue-tied. We gathered ingredients and like an army of kitchen minions, we began the preparation process. With pepper jack, onions, red peppers and glorious bacon all sliced and diced, Alibaba waved her hand, effortlessly intertwining everything in a big bowl o’ beef. She conjured beer battered onion rings, commanded obliging eggs to fry and with a delicate sleight of ham, made maple bacon materialize. With stuffed burgers sizzlin’ and toasted buns properly sauced, Alibaba joined everything in an unholy matrimony. What would follow can only be described as gentlemanly carnage. HairMaster, Goodfellow, Guru and myself descended upon the sorceress’ creation with precision and childlike glee. It was messy, meaty and gone in a matter of seconds.

With Alibaba’s powers expunged for the night and the stomachs of four fine hombres still gurgling, I set about prescribing meaticine. First, after hot oil had done its part, we let battered onions take shelter in our stomachs.

But with stubborn hunger still lingering I was forced to resort to more drastic meatsures. I called the spare maple bacon that was lying idle on the sideline into the game. I coated the bacon in beer batter and sent it head first into the bubbling broth of glorious grease. Minutes later our eager mouths were sated by crispy crunchy goodness.

The finale to our whirlwind night nearly brought me to tears.

I took the last morsel of stuffed burger, coated it in batter, and then fried the bageebies out of it.

The result was divine and like a pack of wolves on a fresh carcass we ferociously tore the heavenly deep fried burger to pieces. As I licked my lips and surveyed the room, I could tell everyone’s tank was full. Hunger was thoroughly defeated.

Thank you Alibaba, your meatgic is welcome back anytime.