Imagine you were raised surrounded by the dulcet sounds of gobbling, a proud snood and symmetrical caruncle outdone only by the most dynamic of wattles, strutting around with your fully eighteen-inch tail feathers signaling your prominence, only to be dishonored in death, described as a filthy clucker, a low-rent, bucket-dwelling, smooth-brained, Kentucky fried shitbird. You own Thanksgiving and Christmas, bitch, and these lemmings out here mistaking you for some foghorn leghorn bitch ass chicken.
Imagine you were raised surrounded by the dulcet sounds of gobbling, a proud snood and symmetrical caruncle outdone only by the most dynamic of wattles, strutting around with your fully eighteen-inch tail feathers signaling your prominence, only to be dishonored in death, described as a filthy clucker, a low-rent, bucket-dwelling, smooth-brained, Kentucky fried shitbird. You own Thanksgiving and Christmas, bitch, and these lemmings out here mistaking you for some foghorn leghorn bitch ass chicken.
This comment was awesome, I was thinking about how much I loved it in the showers.
“dulcet sounds of gobbling”, you are a poet