“Oh, kiss my ass, Prince Charming. I got this in the bag.” Six hours later, the sun is gone, and I’m lifting my third beer to my lips, shoulders slumped in a full-ass pout. I did not have it in the bag. My turkey was good, great even, but Chef Noah’s was the best shit I ever tasted. Even better than last year, that fucker. My lips turn up. Love that guy.
Dont we all
