FIB food as metaphor
At 5 this morning I awoke in pain. There was a sharp throbbing in my lower right abdomen. I arose and staggered, gasping, into the study, then into the living room, then back to the study. I was doubled over. I briefly lay down on the sofa, but it didn't help. Then I made my tortured way to the computer, where a quick bit of research determined that I probably had either a burst appendix or a perforated colon.
Then I recalled my lunch yesterday: A Chicago-style Italian beef sandwich with hot peppers, from a new Library Mall food cart called FIB's. I decided the discomfort was probably due to not a colon or an appendix but a beef.
The pain gradually subsided. I went back to bed and read the new Melvin Laird biography until I drifted off.