How are lucky are we that the Second Coming is starting during a census year? The whore of Babylon has her G10 headed beast to ride upon. The McRib is here for a limited time only. My plan is to waltz into my local Micky D's and buy all of the McRibs they have, then stockpile them in my freezer. I'll make a killer profit once the first Horseman arrives. If that doesn't work, I could always make my own McRibs. Out of what you ask? Well obviously I couldn't just give away my secret recipe, now, could I? My last resort, my squid-infused McRibs, could be stolen at any moment! Can't go and lose that work of genius. So to distract attention from my Squid-infused McRibs recipe, I tweeted out a "leak" about my Rib-Infused McSquid recipe. It caught on like McNuggets on fire in the fryer! The pres ident demanded to know the secret recipe, in order to open up fast food restaurants in poor countries, as a front for secret military operations. I refused. The McRibs recipe was a treat, and I needed it to be able to infiltrate the Food Convention. I stole it and then Forcefed several thousand people scarab beatles. The scarabs forced their way out of the hosts and did a flying trapeze act with the assembled corpses. "My word." a monocled Mr. Peanut exulted, "I'm reborn!" He gasped as his shell rose from the pile of dead & performed a back somersault. Sadly, his top hat fell mid-flight & his hold on the trapeze bar slipped. He plunged downward, landing with a sickly “SPLAT!” The crowd forced itself to look then gathered around his corpse, spoons ready. Mr. Peanut had become Mr. Peanut Butter!



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