"Wait 'til those fucking Persians see what we got planned!"

Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread
His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;
And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.
They sate; and, (not without the god’s command,)
Their homely fare dispatch’d, the hungry band
Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,
To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.
Ascanius this observ’d, and smiling said:
“See, we devour the plates on which we fed.”

"Uh oh! Errr... chief! Bad news! How to say it... hmm... Now I get why someone was proposing to build the bakery first..."