I've got a fevre

and cowbell wasn't going to do a damn thing.


Saturday evening I was afflicted by a rare combination of malnourishment, post-traumatic stress disorder and heat stroke that could have easily been fatal. The PTSD, and to some extent the malnourishment, was a direct result of accidental ingestion of a boca burger. The sneaky devil crept into my diet during a barbecue with family and what I thought was friends. Shaken by the realization that a loved one had fed me sculpted dog food, distraught by the fact that no one stopped me and mortified by my taste buds deplorable reaction to the invading faux-burger, I decided to find a place to be alone with my newly acquired demons. I settled on a plot of sun-soaked land a couple blocks away from the party. My mental battle began around 1:30 but quickly turned to a war. My stomach rumbles began to grow but its cries fell on deaf ears. I was a tortured soul; a mental wreck headed towards a major crash. Around 6:45 my good friend Teddy Roosevelt Wingo found me, a shriveled sweaty shadow of my former self. The hallow look painted on my face, the beads of sweat and the disjointed rambling told the story, I was in deep and needed help. Fortunately for me, Teddy was trained in Critical Protein Replenishment (CPR). He hoisted my failing mass over his shoulder and ran with the speed of a cheetah-Lamborghini hybrid to Philadelphia Fever Steak and Hoagie Shop on 23rd and Madison. Exhausted, Teddy let my near-lifeless body slump to the floor as he bellowed to the shopkeep to make his strongest meaticine on the double.

As D'andre, sandwich artisan extraordinaire, hastily prepared the "Fevre" Special Steak, the seconds flew off the clock and my condition worsened. Malnourishment left me weakened, the heat added a layer of nausea and PTSD acted as the glue, filling in the mental cracks of my breakdown. The point of no return was surely approaching when the first bite of "Fevre" Special Steak was ushered into my mouth by the pair of tense caretakers. 

That first bite provided a much needed spark to my failing system. As the next couple where shoveled in I began to regain major motor function. As the second half of the sandwich neared I was in control. My body felt rejuvenated and the anxious uncertainty that had haunted my mind was fading. The last morsel of the sandwich was the final step towards normalcy. I had conquered my ailments and besides a slight case of googly eyes, which faded with time, I was back!

Bonus Close Up!!!