holy crap! imagine a double double dough pizza,
that's two twice-as-thick slabs of wood-fired,
clay-oveny flattieboombattie bread;
stacked on it's own self,
and chock full of broccoli and peppers,
tomatoes and mushrooms,
red onions, garlic oil, chard, and even kale.....
and then imagine how jealous
all the lame-ass on-the-menu-item people
eating at the flatbread restaurant were
when they saw me get an off-menu turbo dopeness deluxe chef's specialty.
i know dudes, ya'll.
and i gets it IN.
in my belly, i mean.
it was a pizza sandwich,
prepared with pride by paulie the traveling pizza man,
a.k.a the cucch.
talk about a fresh hook-up!
sandwich week?
more like sandwich strong!
trifling and envious lunchgoers were tryin' to order what i was having!
but,
of course, they don't know dudes,
so they were beat out.....
and therefore they could only watch in green-eyed monstervision
whilst i shoveled hot and steamy wads of ultimate sandwich ingenuity
directly into my facehole.
the ins, my ninjas.
i got 'em;
never quiet, never soft....
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