The Lone Bacon

On my counter lies The Lone Bacon. It is sitting there all alone, no one around for companionship, just one lone figure on a cold island of stone. I keep passing it, and realize that, yes, whoever left it there has still not come back for it. I begin to solemnly wonder about its purpose in life; it seems to no longer have one. The logical thing to do would be to simply discard it -- but, The Lone Bacon is so helpless, so hopeless... That would be cruel. It's harming no one; it's committed no crime. Until the one who has abandoned it emerges from the shadows of their guilt, the The Lone Bacon will remain.