Cyrus always smelt of tobacco smoke because he was a twenty a day man.
We were lunching in the Anchor and he pointed to the chicken breast I had on my plate.
“They’re grown in a vat in the Holland factory, you know.”
“That must be uncomfortable for the chickens,” I said.
“It isn’t chicken, fool, it’s artificial. And I will prove it. I will get in to the Holland factory, take a picture, and send it to you.”
I never saw Cyrus again.
Some people said the chicken tasted of nicotine after that but I couldn’t taste it myself.
Clever!
Simple and nice. Good job
Thank you Meghashra and Scott.
Lovely gross. Makes me think of Soylent Green. We appear to be on our way.
Mmm. Reminds me of Soylent Green. We’re on our way. Well done.
This is disgusting. This is a tad dark. This is lovely.
By the way, I had to tweet it!
Yuck – superb!