[Mr. J]

I smash eggs by the dozen and cook them in a oven. I go clubbin' read the Onion and dream about fuckin' finger clucking chicken rubbing. the oil is boiling. rolling like a Royal, loyal, spoiled and wrapped in foil baked at 350° it seems risky but 25 minutes later the skin seems crispy, I dream quickly and succeed picky innuendo about my clean dicky's, float in the vat holding an ax and throwing a cat laced by homing...what? I might as well carry on with the boredom cause that's what I see when I'm gone for most of the morning