What I do for "frogskin"- an Iroquois term for money (yeah- i know i've brought this up before, just such a great term) is prepare food for people too frackin lazy or stupid to make their own lunch. I am not a souschef, nor still of shortorder rank. I consider myself, simply, a "culinarian" with my frogskin endeavors these days.
I have also been a trapeeze artist, squirrel groomer, Melville scholar, whalebone corset inspector, (dear reader you are now obliged to take another sip of your glass of madeira on that segueway) manufacturer of anti-war blimp detonators, connoiseur of rare Englebert Humperdinck recordings, Sasquatch tracker, and I once managed a lint factory, before that gig where i recycled Las Vegas plastic visor hats into park benches. Lo!- the list goes on and on, friend.
Today's special, at the ole' mall kiosk, of which i am Vice-CEO, was a dead rat in a tortilla, with bernaise, pomegranate coulis and thrice-wilted radiccio. Sold so well i could hardly keep up with the demand! I got personal complements from my patrons, like, "I didn't know a rat burro could be so darn delectable!"
Ha!Ha! Avast! Our political watchdog is away on a river trip. Someone's gotta push this wheelbarrow while he's gone, and I, folks, am a little cracked.
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1 comment:
Bullshit, my man. I have partaken many times at your establishment and have always gone away satisfied.
Even if you're serving rat....
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