“I had a naked incubus in my bedroom. With a frying pan of half-cooked bacon, and a hard-on. And a unicorn bite on his ass. Christ, this was turning out to be a weird morning.”

“But Virginia, bacon is breafast. And nothing sets my nostrils twitching like bacon in the morning. Little pigs parading up and down with their curly cork screw tails... Bacon sizzling away on a iron frying pan. Baste it, roast it, toast it, nibble it, chew it, bite right through it, wobble it, gobble it, wrap it round a couple of chickens and am I ravenous!”

“Gadzooks! We've jumped out of the frying pan and into another frying pan!”

“The odor of frying bacon, sausage links, and ham tiptoed on little pig feet all the way to the north end of the second floor. Inevitably, the odor made her simultaneously ravenous and nauseated. She hated the sensation. It reminded her of pregnancy. Every Sunday morning, Leigh-Cheri awoke to a pan of fried fear.”

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire”

“out of the frying pan and into the fire”