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12/10/08(Wed)00:52 No.2877655  I
just ate some fried chickn n` corn bread. The titties wuz juicy, an’ da
buns wuz soft an’ warm. Afterwards, da division manager o’ Popeyes came
up ta muh ma fuckin table an’ asked me how da meal wuz.I said I wuz
satisfied, but da meal lacked uh certain je ne sais quoi. He apologized
profusely, an’ said he had sumfin ta show me dat would make up fo’ it.
He lead me ta da back o’ da popeyes, ta uh room soaked from floor ta
ceiling in blood. In da center o’ it wuz uh live horse, chained by all
four legs ta da structural supports o’ da warehouse like room. As I
watched, employees o’ da popeyes cut large sections from da horse,
which wuz whinneying an’ screaming in horror, da remaining sections o’
its body covered wiff festering sores an’ uh froth o’ sweat. The
popeyes employees took da chunks o’ horseflesh an’ sliced dem into
pieces, then dey rooted around through da bags o’ trash strewn around
da room ta find discarded chickn n` corn bread bones. They quickly
tenderized da meat wiff sledgehammers an’ fed it into uh machine which
formed da horsemeat around da bones, then dey breaded an’ deepfried it.
I asked da division manager why he had led me back ta dis here place,
an’ he pointed at da steed’srump, da diseased asshole puckering
rythmically wiff terror, squirting pus wiff each convulsion. {We’re
just about ta use dat section, would ya like uh crack at it first?} I
quickly unzipped muh ma fuckin pants an’ wasted nahh tyme jamming muh
ma fuckin erect jimmy into da stallion’sdefenseless asshole. With each
thrust, I donkey punched da horse in da back o’ da head, making it
clench its ass even tighter. I came just as da horse died. I wuz
delighted. Popeyes definitely jet da extra mile ta make me uh satisfied
customer. Jus’ like Orenthawl James. |
