Juice fast, day one: not fast.

Juice fast, day two: queso is cheese juice, right?

Juice fast, day three: when I begin to question all my life decisions, but chiefly this juice fast.

Juice fast, finis: And ere the setting of the sun on the third day, he didst break his fast. But not upon ordinary meats or cheeses or breads did he sup, but upon epic level bacon pancakes (not to be confused with the more common and decidedly less epic bacon *and* pancakes). And he set the feast before his children, and they looked upon him as unto a lunatic god, or a giant guitar playing robot, and they didst rejoice (even though he had crammed the pancakes with flax and other supposedly healthful ingredients to which they would have objected but for the presence of bacon). And he set upon his own stack with great vim and vigor. But despite his eagerness to forestall his own succor that he might more readily devour all that was set before him, a mere pancake and a half proved too much. And so, like a weepy schoolgirl who had eaten too many bacon pancakes, or a seasick goat who had also eaten too many bacon pancakes, he retired to the couch to hold his belly and continue to work on his one word novel Groan. And he called for the milk of the poppy, but they instead brought him Perrier. And his kids turned on Adventure Time. And he saw that it was good.