After feeding on a bowl of bite-sized shredded wheat squares,
     softened by plain yogurt and low-fat milk, aided by raisins
     and banana slices (primo pairs!),

After a mixed drink of orange juice and sparkling mineral water
     (not sipped from a goblet)--reached aloft, above on the
     shelf, for a nonstick skillet, or in unused household terms,
     a domesticated plastic pan.

Placing the pan on the stove, turned the corresponding knob
     sparking the igniter (ineffective chatter), quickly struck a
     match, inflamed the gas burner, FWHUM; whew, a second
     longer, a conflagrative venture.

Instead, a dribbled streak of olive oil spread by moving round
     the wrist in slow circles, holding the skillet, tilting the
     handle to coat the pan in preparation to cook a sort of
     migas omelet flip over.

First, placed slices of turkey lunch meat in the pan and watched
     the pressed faux protein sizzle and shrivel; having come into
     close contact with the blistering oil, sodium infused water
     droplets crackled as the hydrogen/oxygen bonds vaporized.

Once dehydrated, the crisped meat broke easily apart with a
     slight touch-tug by the heat resistant rubber spatula, which
     was also used to squeegee from the sides of a glass prep bowl
     the smear of a whisked then poured Grade A Jumbo egg.

The runny egg began to congeal around the protruding turkey bits.

Seconds later, a slice of American cheese was torn into pieces and
     dropped strategically throughout the would-be omelet.

Broken multigrain tortilla chip crumbs, from the bottom of the bag,
     strewn like confetti, destroyed the omelet effect; medium,
     thick and chunky salsa added a zesty moisture, but ruined the
     firm texture, even for a frittata; buffalo wing sauce provided
     the necessary tinge for tongue-heat.

A couple of flips and tosses, reduced drippy liquid, styling the
     egg complete for a taste from the skillet; nothing else needed;
     with the rubber spatula, swiped the Migas-esque onto a plate.
     Bon appétit!

Now, the thought might have come to mind that this breakfast was
     an act of culinary regress as well as lacking the touch of Midas;
     however, the contrivance of this meal was purposeful, even grander;
     this morning's diet was one of many in doing combat with the colon--
     towards the fight in preventing diverticulitis.