It’s the samurai lifestyle, proceeding forward without letting the rain drops affect you, no matter how tingly they may feel stretching further from the tip of your nose, like that last squeezed drop of hot jizz, just catching the beam of light on the tip of your tongue and swishing with your sloppy corned beef cream pies. You know the kind they serve up on holidays, boston gold, right out from under the heating lamps, where that kid who thinks he’ll be working at the restaurant forever decided to commit possible career suicide by having you bite in and maybe find it even better than usual, just uncontrollably gesticulating to your passenger seat daughter around a custard pressing smile, saying “Damn, girl! these are really good today!”
And she’s being like, ‘No jizzle my nizzle. Haven’t you heard about the baker here? He’s been getting a lot of national attention with the local newspapers. They’ve mentioned him twice within the last month: once when Gordon Ramsay did a featurette on him, calling him, ‘the man with the golden pie flute.’ and the second when the Trib called him ‘the pied piper of the last couple of days’.
