Brundle walked back into the kitchen, fully refreshed from his routine pre-dinner-rush constitutionals, and slammed into a wall of thick, black smoke. The all-too familiar aroma of charred dough and cheese filled his nostrils. His eyes welled up with tears, partly from the smoke, but mostly from the thought of his perfectly-topped meat monster
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I thought of those poor paper mule’s families faces when they found out that their prodigal son wasn’t comin home for pork chops.
I guess I've never given proper consideration to exactly what kind of animal pinatas are supposed to be. But I feel even worse for them now, regardless.
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