Disclaimer: They're not mine, none of 'em. This is a cheery, pointless li'l fluff-piece that says nothing except that no matter what, Hank still retains his sense of wonder at it all. :)

When I sat down to eat today,

A loaded plate flew by my face

Followed by knives in neat array,

(The forks and spoons were keeping pace.)

A one-eyed man was cooking toast,

With crimson fire from twixt his lids,

Another froze them when the coast

Was clear (he does it for the kids).

A woman there, with hair like snow,

Rebuked him with a rain-shower,

Not the slightest shame did he show,

(I think that's a mutant power)

Gambit showed off once again,

Cooked bacon with a single touch,

Rogue was unimpressed, 'twas plain,

(I know *I* wouldn't like it much)

Jean made the pancakes dance about,

Circling the room with joyous ease,

To get a share, just give a shout,

(But only if it starts with 'please')

A bone spike barely missed my ear,

As Marrow claimed the last pop-tart,

I let her take it with good cheer,

(I know they're not good for my heart)

In furry hands I took my plate

Twas time to work, abandon play,

And yet, though labour is my lot...

(There's breakfast magic every day)

(fin)