Joke’s on you: my mustard game has become so advanced - a habit so entrenched - it has rendered me immune to the chemical irritants which are commonly deployed at street protests, which is really coming in handy lately.
As I wind my way to the front, my people chant in unison:
MUSTARD MAN!
MUSTARD MAN!
MUSTARD MAN!
I open every orifice and beg for pepper balls and gas. The people, euphoric, giddily cheer through their masks as I personally ingest about a year’s worth of taxpayer-funded chemical munitions via every route physically available to my mortal form. The pigs waste… all of it. It is a tasty snack.
The pigs are sad. They go home for the night. Questioning their life choices, they are unable to sleep. Half of them later resign.
Joke’s on you: my mustard game has become so advanced - a habit so entrenched - it has rendered me immune to the chemical irritants which are commonly deployed at street protests, which is really coming in handy lately.
As I wind my way to the front, my people chant in unison:
I open every orifice and beg for pepper balls and gas. The people, euphoric, giddily cheer through their masks as I personally ingest about a year’s worth of taxpayer-funded chemical munitions via every route physically available to my mortal form. The pigs waste… all of it. It is a tasty snack.
The pigs are sad. They go home for the night. Questioning their life choices, they are unable to sleep. Half of them later resign.
Your poor taste in condiments aside, you are a man of the people and I salute you.
Did someone evoke Mustard Man