psst—why aren’t you following the grand slams yet? what are you chicken? huh? ba-kaw! ba-ba-kaw! come on chicken! show us some leg! and some wing! now drop and give me twenty! eggs!
Bob Your Own Gif!
Bobbing for biscuits is all gravy, but what do YOU want to see this dude bob for? Let us know in our ask box, bbs.
We think Marty might still be here in spirit—it’s either that or some custodial gnomes keep breaking in and replacing our burnt out lightbulbs.
Deep in the Brekkie Meets Forest they say a creature that should not exist roams the land, dipping into syrup lakes and sneaking betwixt the Applewood trees. This creature is of terrifying stature! And oh, my, does it have a scent that will drive you absolutely, quite astutely, resolutely mad! Many have claimed to spy the greasy being in the pale moonlight, dancing to a magic drum echoing across the land, a dance for its ancestors, they say, a tribute to the sausages and sasquatches that came before this unfathomable iteration! From Lower Huntsville to Ann Arboratta, they speak of the creatures dizzying spell, the delicious scent of sausage luring citizens deep into the Brekkie Meets Forest, to never return. But why would this magnificent hybranimal do such a thing? Aye, there’s the rub: it is a far better life to live in the Brekkie Meets Forest, and only the chosen ones shall be summoned.
*poof!*
*narrator disappears*
The Grand Slams get pretty wild, especially Pancake with his proclivity for syrup.Sip, sip, sippin’ on that syruppppp.
You know the old saying – “Goes over-easy like an egg balloon.” I think that’s how it went. Either way, have your frying pan ready.
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