I decline the title of Iron Cook and accept the lesser title of Zinc Saucier, which I just made up. Uhh… also, comes with double prize money. Incidentally, you have a dime up your nose. In our darkest hour, we can stand erect, with proud upthrust bosoms. I don’t ‘need’ to drink. I can quit anytime I want! Meh.
Really?! You guys go on without me! I’m going to go… look for more stuff to steal! Then throw her in the laundry room, which will hereafter be referred to as “the brig”.