The clown smiled as the chicken squawked, “¡No matter what you do, the profits will fall in the long run! ¡That’s cold, hard #s!” Mo’ & mo’ sweat slid down the chicken’s face. “¡With each work bird you fry, you only further clog the money stream with cholesterol till we all make it burst!”
Then the chicken disappeared ‘hind the tin wall. All that could be seen o’ it was its distorted shadow cast by the flames.
But the clown’s smile fell when he heard sharp grinding.
“¡’Course, smuggling a wrench helps, too!” exclaimed the chicken wildly. “¡Lebe die Revolution!”
The clown had no time to react before he was ripped apart by the ensuing explosion, freeing the flames to spread their #s.
& that was when the implications o’ the decision to save tax $s holding the chicken factory in Worcestershire Woods truly sparked.