Anyhow, the point of all this is, while the pies were absolutely mouthwatering, I think I may have overdone it. In fact — yes — I’m quite sure that I must vomit now. Which would be sad if it weren’t for the fact that I have several more Boston Cream Pies in my refrigerator, and will consume them as soon as I’ve cleared a little room.

Should you have any immediate concerns, please bring them up with my butler. Good day to you.

It started with soup. A gallon of it to be precise. And it wasn’t soup so much as beef stew. And it wasn’t beef stew so much as a lot of damp, seasoned meat. And it was two gallons, not one. But it was delicious.

Then came the salad; Caesar, of course. With a bread loaf-worth of croutons and an entire block of grated parmesan cheese. And four fried chicken breasts, diced. What can I say? A little animal flesh really helps the greens go down.

Next up was the main course. Well, main courses if I’m being honest. There was a five-pound N.Y. strip steak, which was wrapped in bacon. Mummified in bacon, really. There was half of a candied ham, also wrapped head-to-toe in bacon. And finally, two hamburgers. Okay, four. And they were bacon-swiss cheeseburgers. With chili on them. You got me there.

Dessert? You bet. Though I did limit myself to some cheesecake. Well, yes, chocolate raspberry cheesecake. An entire one. Drowning in caramel sauce. And a pint of vanilla ice cream for flavoring. Plus, a Snickers bar. Needless to say, it was out of this world.

Anyhow, the point of all this is that I just coughed up some blood while enjoying an after-dinner bottle of cognac, so I think I’ll go lie on my stomach for an hour or so until the swelling goes down. I would just ram a feather down my throat, Roman-style, but I wouldn’t want all that top-notch cuisine to go to waste.

In any event, good night. And good luck.

Either way, I gotta learn to slow down with chicken. Or switch to boneless. One of the two.