At Ron’s Grill

It’s funny to think about them.

They eat, they shit, they spread disease.
They breed, they fight for their young.

They start all over again with the eating, shitting, spreading disease, and breeding.

Then they solve any problem that stands in the way of their eating, their shitting, their breeding, and their young, but not much more than that. That’s all there is for them.

But they’re really good at it.

And then they die.

The next generation comes along and eats and shits and spreads disease and breeds and fights for their young.

And dies.

The smell of their flesh brings people from out of the woodwork, moaning and crying for a mouthful of fresh meat.

It’s funny.

Until I started setting up my traps and Weber, I never noticed how much we had in common with rats.

10 responses to “At Ron’s Grill”

  1. The font is very-Harry. Oh, would you lookit that, I made a funny.
    This is rather “Dave Sipley” if you ask me, I didn’t read who I was by first, ’cause that’s how I roll, and somehow I knew it was YEW!

    yes yes, the rat burger’s “Dere Delishis.”

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