David Sedaris in The New Yorker:
"The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”
To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked."
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1 comment:
Maybe you should ask if the shit'n'bits tasted like chicken. And then order a nice bloody steak.
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