Now I want to drape bacon where it doesn’t belong. On the lawn, hanging from the balcony, dripping off the air conditioner and from the trees. Omg, bacon trees. And all the children of the neighborhood will whisper about the crazy lady with the bacon tree.

But no. The crows would eat it, and then they would gather at my house and shriek when I run out of bacon.

Too funny. The last sentence was a delightful surprise.