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How do you make a burrito? You’re a fish. You have no hands.
Say what you will about farm animals but, until you've been cornered by a bastard Clydesdale holding a staple gun on a crisp Tuesday in October, your opinion is irrelevant. So you don’t get to tell me that I can’t make a burrito, because I know for a fact that you have never, ever been cornered by a basard Clydesdale holding a staple gun on a crisp Tuesday in October. I asked your mom after she left my place yesterday. I make a burrito better than any burrito was ever made by anyone. So you can stop writing me mean emails about not being able to make burritos with my fins.
I’ll tell you exactly how I do it – I am an old being. And I am versed in the old ways. There are many things I can create without using my earthly fins. I have many talents. For example, I can tell you right now that the queen strangled Princess Diana in the ambulance. How do I know this? I am versed in the old ways! I know everything. So at the very least, you should believe me when I say I know how to cook a goddamned burrito. If I can unravel the biggest conspiracy of the last fifty years, I can make a burrito.
I butcher the cow. Angus is my favourite. I prepare the meat, then cook it. I like my burritos spicy – I recommend using a scotch bonnet but a ghost pepper will still give you the spice you crave. I milk my friend Gerald’s cousin’s holstein, and make my own cheese. I go out to my field, harvest the grain, mill the grain, make my flour tortillas. Don’t ask me how I do the sour cream, that’s a Brunswickan secret. No one makes a burrito better than me, and I’ve been around since 1867.
As for folding the burrito with fins – Do I have to get Ally to fold it up for me once I get all the ingredients together?
I hope you have a fun night out with your friends tomorrow going to the Cap, Kory. Stop harassing me about my burritos, or the Clydesdale might show up.