Eating People

by Jefferson Navicky

I’m eating leftover people. They taste worse than I thought because they sold the company just before I ate them. I used to want more than that, but yeah. Yeah, right. The money’s not there. It’s more of a half smack. I toasted a nonprofit yesterday. I just don’t know. I’m heading out on a positive beef gathering venture soon, so that I can get excited about, among other things, money. I’m gonna bring that in. Anyway, it’s been great. Great to gnaw on muthafuckers who left their asses in shit baskets. These were my orders. I’m just following them. That’s fun. I tuck my shirt in in a way that makes my upper body puff up like a bloated turtle. Sometimes I stay in hotels and clap at odd things, like boots. I ate a half boot yesterday. It gave me nightmares. In any case, the boot cost, I heard, 350 bucks. You believe that bullshit? Cheap hiking boots, I’m learning, are cheap for a reason. No one likes cheap, especially the dogs I eat. I’m sorry. I’ve got buttons, and I’m going boating on your asses. Laugh all you want, uh–huh, yuck it up. Go to Whole Foods. Frown real good. I’m gonna eat your yak pack.