Comedic Take on High School Lunch
A cookie, forged in hellfire, devours the tartest of all the poppers with tenacity, that of which is only comparable to the dragons of fairy tales.
DISCLAIMER: For best viewing experience, please read in a snobby British accent.
It is with the utmost certainty in which I can exclaim, that school lunches are by far the most delicious things to have graced San Juan Hills.
There is no humanly way possible for one to resist the temptation. Absolutely nobody can approach the cafeteria, dare I say, “Cool Kid Cuisine,” to stimulate one’s olfactory sensors with the ever so gracious aroma that smells like something straight out of the motion picture sensation, Ratatouille.
Forged in hellfire, no weak willed person DARE attempt to include them in their own metabolic processes. — Yours Truly
Make no mistake, Domino’s can’t possibly make a better pizza than that of which is delivered, lukewarm via lamplight, right into the palm of your hand wrapped extravagantly in wax paper, accompanied by, of course, a platter made of none other than the finest vegan material.
Let us suppose, that, by chance, you happen to have come upon enough finances to finally treat yourself to a magnificent, to say the least, meal.
How doth the sun shine on those individuals who choose the strawberry over the cinnamon pop tart?
To answer the question, with as much truth as possibly can be foreseen by a feeble man with a whimsy will:
Haphazardly.
To merely entertain the fact that thou wilst receiveth the tartest of thine poppers by selecting the blandest fruit mixture of berries made of straw, that of which provides sustenance to horses, simply and most certainly draws the conclusion that thy pallet doth not have the advancement to meticulously process the art and beauty that fills thy mouth once the tartest pop of cinnamon grantst thou the honor of receiving the blessing of understanding what TRUE cuisine tastes like.
To pursue a tangent that has not the same directive as aforementioned, the cookies of San Juan Hills are no gift from heaven.
Forged in hellfire, no weak willed person DARE attempt to include them in their own metabolic processes.
Harder than stone, these cookies are only suitable for strong individuals in their physical prime, (and those of whom have maintained good oral hygiene), due to the fact that they can not just crack teeth, but even shatter the entire mandible of those who try to taste the forbidden sweet.
It is recommended that thou take the utmost caution when encountering these hell spawn, for if you somehow emerge victorious from the hellfires in which these demons are born, thou wilst experience an energy that makes thy body feel invincible, and grants thy mind the ability to process information at unprecedented speeds. Alas, no one achieves greatness and never falls.
After the invigorating sensation of conquering, “Colossal the Cookie,” prepare thy body from what the common folk have labeled, a “sugar crash.”
Should you appropriate the proper answer to the mechanical troll’s seven digit question, and possess the currency to purchase the, for lack of better words, nectar of the gods, keep your wits about you, and properly dispose of your trash in the nearest and most suitable waste receptacle.
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