Three Square Meals

They think they know but they have no earthly clue. It wasn't Peacock in the hallway with the rope bitch, it was the muthafucking wrench. She clubbed his skull and scrambled his brain and then Evette cooked it while her titties bounced around and everyone ate the skillet of Mr. X's brains and laughed and drank mimosas and bloody mary's and had a delightful breakfast.

The refried beans and chimicangas would have tasted better with the rain water. Of course that is because the rain water on this planet resembles the nacho cheese here on earth. And there was no one sitting down to eat these perfectly cooked beans and chimicangas with tasty shredded beef bubbling beneath the flaky flour crust. And why is this? Because the wind had been blowing before the rain. And the wind on this planet most resembles razor blades on ours.

For dinner he curled up with a hot pocket and watched queer eye on Bravo. He contemplated the ridiculousness of our culture and how we had to be in some sort of decline. Then again, if our civilization had peaked, at what point would that have been. He didn't know. People were for the most part good people and left each other alone. It was just that sometimes people were so cruel and tried to force their ideas on him. He had been beaten up many times in his life. After he finished his hot pockets he prayed to Lucifer for the strength to carry on and went to bed.