dump 'em out.

i made enough filling for seventy-something dumps.
y'know how i know?
because i made seventy-something dumps.
yeah.
that's right.
i had dumps on dumps on dumps, duders.
that's real.
why?
because dumplings are expert,
and because too many, too often,
is the right way to enjoy those individual flavor grenades.
c'mon.
you should really know about that by now, neighbors.
jeez.
it's just that they're so good,
and they do take a little extra effort to produce,
but really,
once the dough is rolled, and the circles are cut
(and y'all know how much i love circles)
it's just spoonfuls of magic and a few folds and pinches,
and a boiled-up middle part,
and then three flips in a frying pan....
okay,
so they're actually a total pain-in-the-A* to make,
but,
without all that active participation?
right.
then there aren't any dumplings.
and we're not about to accept that sort of sh!t, now are we?
no way, friends-
what are we?
A*-holes?
i don't think so....
and anyway,
it takes work to get the proper rewards.
that's a thing.
i'm a working person, i put in work, i work with purpose-
and the big action ensues apace for all the invested instances.
mmmmm.
and that first sizzling sexy second of sesame oiled hottness?
yeah.
it gets it IN.
check the plan-coming-together-type teleport:

yuuuup!
i crowd my pan, because i overheat my oil,
and i do both of those things
because too much is still the right amount.
and also,
the faster i cook 'em,
the faster i can eat 'em.
two bites apiece, kids.
that's all you get.
one to pop the top,
so you can drizzle the sauce inside,
and drop a blop of the thick hot chili paste on top,
and the second to explode the flavors for your face.
that's it.
**********
there may not be much to speak of yet this year,
besides all these dumps on my face.
and i may even be in the throes of a necessary material fast, too.
do you remember what that is?
uh-huh.
no extraneous indulgent purchases.
at all.
all month.
a new year with no new stuff.
it's a hard style, but a mandatory one.
i know, i know-
that's what poor people do.
tell me about it.
ugh.
broken, broken, old, busted, disgusted, disgusting, ugly,
and still dope.
how?
dumplings, folks.
you know it.
it's the dumplings that keep it all at eleven,
even when we're sevening out...
it's all really happening,
and it won't stop because it can't;
never quiet, never soft.....