First one, and then another, they stood so close to me that they could smell on my breath the big bowl of courage I’d had for breakfast. They don’t want recipes, no, they just move in on me closer until their toes are on my toes, they salivate, and they want to bite into my flesh and swallow me down in hopes of getting my courage along with it.
But step back, boys. I’m not going down that digestive tract again. I’m not a good meal, I will disagree with your stomach.