[Coach Will stands with his back to his plate, thoughtfully gazing out the window above the sink. He clenches a fork in one right hand, the Sports section in the other. He slowly turns around, with a look of hungry determination on his face.]

Ladies and pancakes, there is a time in every breakfast’s life when you have to make a stand. A time for action. A time for greatness and honor. A time for more syrup.

That time is now.

[Will lazily droops syrup over the entire plate, humming Queen’s “We are the Champions” and shaking his hips back and forth. No one’s watching so it’s not that lame. Shut up.]

Turkey sausage, you’re doing a great job of just sitting there and being delicious. Nice work out there. You too, waffles. Don’t think I didn’t see you there, with your powdered sugar and extra sogginess. It’s that kind of effort that’s going to make this a winning brunch.

Fruit salad, you could really learn a thing or two from waffles. Don’t look at me like that. You know you only made the team for show. If you honestly thought you were going to be a major part of the game plan, you just weren’t paying attention. Oh and next time, lose the pineapple. You taste like crap.

Which brings me to eggs benedict. Get your head in the game, kid. This isn’t France. This is Amurica. We don’t love failure here. You’re supposed to be the leader of this team—start acting like one. Rely on your teammates. If you’re running out of Hollandaise sauce, roll around in the syrup. Be creative. Stop being horrible.

Now I know a lot of you are worried about breakfast taco. Word from the trainer is that his shell is slightly cracked, but we’re going to tape him up with some melted cheese and he should be ready to return late in the second half. Until then we’re just going to have to adjust. I want to see more brown sugar out of the oatmeal, more crispiness out of the hash browns, and less broccoli out of the quiche.

Seriously, WTF quiche? Why so much broccoli? That was gross. Actually you know what, you’re washed up. Get the hell out of my locker room.

[The quiche just sits there, because it’s just some food, not an actual living thing. Also, quiche never pays attention and hates being told what to do.]

We’re still in this boys. It’s only 11 in the morning, I’m still wearing my pajamas, and no one else is home. I have no plans to do anything remotely productive today, and there’s a Roseanne marathon on the Oxygen network…not that I’m going to watch that…all day…or anything. Anyways, that’s not the point. The point is that there’s still a half left and we got to give it our all. Remember the words Vince Lombardi taught us: “Breakfast isn’t everything, it’s the only thing. Om nom, nom nom.”