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It sure seemed like a good idea. Let's reward the guys with a home cooked meal. After a full shift (8+ hours) of drinking and carousing, some nourishment was in order. It's not easy to imbibe for this duration and so the chosen few should be recognized for their feat. So, Joe invited the gang to his house for an early morning treat.
They entered the home with all the decorum of a gaggle of geese in heat. When you're inebriated, you never sound loud to yourself or your fellow companions. It's the sober souls that have the overly sensitive ears. Joe and his compadres gathered near the foot of the stairs and Joe called to his lovely bride upstairs. As she appeared, Joe shared his plan for her to prepare a gourmet feast of bacon, eggs, home fries, toast and coffee for him and his posse of revelers. To Joe's surprise and astonishment, his bride was not an enthusiastic participant in his vision. In fact, she told him what he could do with his suggestion in very graphic terms.
Joe, leaning on the post for moral support, stood tall in front of his buddies and indignantly responded, What, no Brefass? It's another little known fact that drinking brings with it a shortened vocabulary. Isn't brefass more succinct and colorful than breakfast? Doesn't it convey a certain visual image?
The harsh reality was this "band of brothers" were on their own. No food in this Inn.