So you love your pork products. Me too. I just made some hot dogs wrapped in bacon, sauteed in scrapple fat, then deep fried with a breaded pork rind shell. Om Nom Nom Nom! Delicious! Arm going numb. Heart hurt bad! Does anyone know how to vacuum arteries? Isn’t there a needle attachment I can get for the wet vac?
Need to lay down on my awesome pork pillow, which shows an actual porker. Sculpted with raw meat! You know, the kind just brimming with salmonella and bacteria. E-Coli too. Yum. I would dust this creepy-ass pillow with a sprinkling of bacon fat for sweet dreams, but then everyday vultures would buzz around me and attack my head. Showers? Who needs ’em. If I’m honest they already circle me. Something to do with diapers and vodka. Don’t ask.
I would sleep on it every night and then would come one special night when I would sleep on my stomach and wake up locking eyes with that damn porker meat sculpture. I would be scared at first, but then I would relax. Give in to him. Lightly flick my tongue, tasting his juices. Then go back to sleep. My little salty raw meat buddy. I gave him friendship and he gave me irritable bowel.