George wakes up. He gets out of bed. He smiles, because he’s George.

He walks to his bathroom. His toothbrush says “GEORGE” on it. This makes him smile. He puts toothpaste on the brush, and begins brushing his teeth. While he does this he looks into the mirror. The mirror has been etched to perfectly frame his face when he stands here, and the bottom has a flowing, gothic script that reads “GEORGE.” This makes him smile, too.

He makes his way to the kitchen. He passes his daughter; her name is Georgetta. She says she’s on her way to the movies with her sister, Freeda George. This makes him smile, too. He passes a photo of himself with his five sons, all named George, from Junior all the way down to The Sixth. He grins maniacally.

Once in the kitchen he turns on his George Foreman Jumbo-Sized Countertop Grill. This makes him smile even wider than everything before. It has his name on it AND it’s famous. It’s more famous than him now, but he doesn’t admit this to himself. In his head it’s only famous because it has his name on it. Everything must come up George. It is his way. He does not explain it. He cannot explain it. He only knows that it must be.

He uses the 120-square-inch non-stick cooking surface to make his breakfast. He cooks a hamburger, because he likes them and he decided long ago that he had reached a point in his life where if he wanted hamburgers for breakfast he could do that sort of thing. The cooking surface is angled to drain fat and grease away from the food, making the meal a little healthier. The non-stick surface eliminates the need for oil and butter, too. George didn’t think of these things; an engineer did. A company made this thing and decided they needed a celebrity endorsement. Then they couldn’t get the celebrity they wanted so they called George. But George doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t tell this story; he smiles and takes the credit when people meet him on the street and say what a nice grill he made.

He finishes cooking his hamburger and puts it on a bun. He takes the ketchup bottle with the squirt top and writes the word “GEORGE” on his in deep crimson. He looks out the window and chuckles to himself. It’s gonna be a great day. Everything’s comin’ up Georges.

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