A Filthy Bucket of Gravy

This will be my final transmission to you this week.

Soon, my beloved and I will descend into the nether-regions of Rochester for a familial gathering of gluttony and troll-feasts. We will greet each other with hugs and pleasantries before quickly getting to business. In two days, my family and loved ones must devour 3 whole turkeys, 14 lbs. of stuffing, 17 pumpkin pies, a 4 foot high stack of cool whips, a bathtub full of mashed potatoes, and a bowl of leftover french onion soup. We’ll then wash down our meal and refresh our palette with a large glass brimming with warm, whole milk.

My mouth is watering with anticipation right now at the very prospect of it. Just now, a small dallop of saliva dripped onto the ‘B’ key of this computer. I cannot help myself. It is who I am. I could no sooner stop drooling than I could stop throwing rocks at cars. It is my culture, and you are racist for suggesting I should behave otherwise. Just stop it. Stop being a racist.

See all you racist bastards on Monday.

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7 Responses to A Filthy Bucket of Gravy

  1. knocked up Q says:

    I love whole milk!

  2. peter says:

    Do you love drinking phlegm?

    As far as I’m concerned, it’s the same thing.

  3. Sarah says:

    You being racist and all, does that mean you’ll only eat the white meat?

  4. peter says:

    No no, Sarah, you misunderstood. YOU are the racist.

  5. Sarah says:

    It takes one to know one.

  6. I don’t see the problem here.

  7. Ibex says:

    As an Ibex, I don’t eat meat.

    Phlem I will drink.

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