The cure for Motaba virus was meat. Lots and lots of meat. Fourteen kinds, in fact.
Now I am a different kind of sick. A happy kind of sick. Like after too much exercise or sex. Or after seeing a poorly written but action-packed moviefilm. Or after eating lots of meat.
I think, somewhere between the parmesian top sirloin and the grilled shrimp, or perhaps during the milet fignon… God spoke to me. He uses lots of plosives. And you want to know what he said?
Yeah. I just bet you do. You vegan cocksmokers.