......that's because it is.
I cannot tell you how many times my dad has lured me into heavy manual labor on my days off with bacon. He'll call me and be all "So I figured I'd rip the floor out of the upstairs at your aunt's house, I'll need someone to carry heavy objects in unbearable heat for ten, twelve hours. Interested?"
With a look of abject horror, I try to think of some reasonable excuse to NOT DO THAT and before I can speak, he'll add "Oh, if you get over here right now I'll make you breakfast." See...I'm no longer a morning person, so breakfasts that need to be COOKED are a rarity for me.
I hesitate, weighing the pros (eggs! corned beef hash! fresh juice!) with the cons (BACKBREAKING LABOUR) and while I'm teetering on the brink of decision, he'll add one more thing:
"...there'll be bacon."
I love my dad. He pays me for hard work with food. And he knows my price: BACON.![]()