Jazzmin Flush (14)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (14)"
   
   Skirt steak, cumin, coriander, and a quintessential squeeze of organic lime juice--yup; specifically, savory sizzle it up, minus the lime-green grasshopper habitat-residing in the nuclear kitchen area--though that would add punch-out protein for the appetite of the Red Fox; regardless, just add guacamole on top, and DELISH.
   Girthy Gilda prepared soft, flour shells with a crunchy (what?) yellow-corn mix for them to all, like scavengers, scoop within their obscenities, and it tasted a bit bland--the food of Quasi-Saints, so white breadish; still, the foursome enjoyed a communal meal, and Jesus the Living, Vegetative Christ was invited, sacrificing tissue and glamorous gore for eternal fulfillment--no pride or hating hubris included, just stupification from his demi-godship Greatness.
   Jazzmin Flush devoured the eating hour.  "This is it!  I may need to verbally speak instead of only using the written word."
   Thomas choked, a little.  "Scream for the Dodgers then; they make a delicious dog."