Aug 192010

I don’t know about all youse pan-handlers but I’m gettin’ pretty sick an tired of all them microgreens. What the hell’s all the get up over ‘em anyways? When I sit down with Lucy, my trusty old mule, ta enjoy me a fine steak or scallop I don’t need no stinking shrubbery all over ‘em. And jest what the hell are they anyways? Looks like godblammit clovers or somethin’. I don’t need no clovers in my supper. Clovers is for leprechauns. I mean, if’n yer gonna put somethin’ on my grub why not make it a nice béchamel? That’s better’n them weeds, ain’t it? Heck, even some spicy aioli would do me jest fine. Anyways, that’s all fer now. Lucy’s braying up something fierce and I gots to go soothe ‘er. Hold on there Lucy, I’m a comin’.

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