Wakin’ Bacon. 

26 Jun

It wasn’t until I slept with my window open last night that I realised just how much next doors’ pond sounds like bacon frying in too much hot oil. 

It’s a genius bit of foley, if we’re being honest.

But as someone who a) prefers listening to something as opposed to seeing it and b) really likes food, it’s less than ideal. 

All I did this morning after my alarm went off was lie in bed for three hours wishing there was bacon downstairs, or an attractive man who would deliver me some freshly cooked bacon, or even a nearby pig that might let me [I cannot even finish this sentence without grossing myself out. Just know it crossed that border between funny and intensely disturbing. Sorry everyone.]

So basically, I think what I’m saying is something about always having bacon available near ponds. Something like that anyway. 


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