With my waffle iron heated up, I threw the ingredients onto the sizzling plate in the same order that Homer does in The Simpsons. Caramels, batter, liquid smoke. Shut the machine, before someone sees what I have done.
God knows, though. And I'll have to answer for it.
The liquid smoke, a substance apparently made from the runoff from an extinguished house fire, wafted into my eyes, burning them to tears. And just like in the TV show, the mass started oozing out of the sides. The caramels, in fact, started leaking into the mechanical components of the waffle iron, and I wondered for a minute if this was going to be my last time using that machine. Then the caramels started falling out of the waffle iron, jizzing all over my counter.