Peanut butter Thanks-
giving pie, a slice for you
along with ham on rye, so
the obvious problem with
ordering this from your local
Jimmy Johns does follow:
Mr. Bukowski, the
"associate," has to consult
Mr. Sandusky, the manager,
employed by
Mr. Lebowski, who drinks
alot and listens to Stravinski.
But it's funny, Lebowski's wife,
maiden name Lindski, listens
to Stranvinski too, ever since
she was hospitalized in that
"ski" accident with "instructor"
Bukowski, and stayed with
the homeski for two weekski
(it was really a new Bukowski
inside of Lebowski's Lindski),
and everyone's a Stravinski
fan sans Sandusky, who prefers
watching a "bootleg" copy of Monica
Lewinsky sucking Clinton's joystickski.
It surprised Lebowski one morning
over a cocktail, Lindski's Stravinski
choice gave Lebowski a smile, but then...
the pointski came to his headski.
Let's be sureski that Lebowski didn't
let that shitski go. He buried Lindski
one night, tried to catch Bukowski
but that mothafucka fled to Cincinnati.
Sandusky was sworn to secrecy over lunchski,
Lebowski found an attorney
and when they finally tried him for first degree murderksi,
his attorney won the jury away from pleading guilty.
Meanwhile Sandusky broke down over
a glass of iced tea raspberry and told the copskis.
He acted as witness against Bukowski.
Bukowski was put away for 2 years,
Sandusky killed by hitmenski.
But really, I'm thinking, Jimmy John's
don't have what I need, doesn't
peanut butter sound delicious
today?
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