Every morning, my sacred ritual begins with precision. My devoted assistant, as reliable as a Swiss clock, has never faltered—until today. A sudden text arrives: flu, fever, he’s out of commission. After years of unwavering loyalty, his absence speaks volumes. Poor thing, he must truly be unwell. But nature waits for no one, and neither does my masterpiece. I take my place on the Golden Throne, the reigning centerpiece of my lavatory, a throne befitting royalty. With a deep breath, I surrender to the process. The outcome? A masterpiece of 750 grams, a symphony of perfection, its aroma a tribute to true sophistication. Today’s creation is particularly exquisite, fueled by last night’s feast of tuna, spinach, and brown rice, artfully transformed into this marvel. My devoted assistant, who usually treats this offering like a Michelin-starred delicacy, missed a rare gem today. But I refuse to let such artistry go unnoticed. Seizing the moment, I launch an online auction. The winning bidder will claim this unique treasure. Will they savor it with devotion, embrace it as a lavish skincare treatment, or perhaps repurpose it for a solitary indulgence? The possibilities are endless—perhaps some daring soul will even craft a risotto masterpiece. Imagination knows no bounds. Carefully, I package this gift of grandeur, ready for its journey to the fortunate victor. As for my ailing devotee? Today, he gets a pass—only because he needs to swallow his medicine. But tomorrow, flu or not, I expect him back at his post, kneeling before the Golden Throne, as he has every morning without fail. No exceptions.
