Pure pork goodness

On rainy days when we were young, my mom used to serve my brother and me sausage for breakfast. You see, the rain always made us gloomy, so we'd drag into the kitchen mumbling instead of talking, bummed by the immanent wet walk to the bus stop.

So it was sausage on those days, because mom liked to illustrate how we were better off than the pig.

The juicy, delicious pig.