Breakfast of Champions

Kicking back on concrete got old fast, so I marched under the big glass outdoor table for some proper morning drama. Right there on the tile, half-baked by the rising sun, sat a fat abandoned green plastic peg. Looked like a savage jaw waiting to be tamed, mate! I stomped right up, jammed my boot into the spring pivot, and grabbed both plastic pinchers. With a theatrical heave, I pried that crocodile mouth wide open and wedged an empty dried cicada husk clean between its plastic teeth. Nailed the trap, gave a cheeky wink to my reflection in the glass table above, and blew a killer kiss to the yard. You can't match this stagecraft, darling!