Fast food is a beautiful mistress. She is always ready late at night, and never closes her doors for any person wanting more. She is cheap and cheerful, and does not tax the pocket too deeply. A couple of coins can buy you a mouthful of monstrously satisfying moments. Ahh, fast food, how you understand though. You dance and tease and pulsate your oily flavor through my soul and make me yearn for the next time my tongue touches your tips. I dip my hands into your basket and breach the brim of your beautifully baked buns ever so brashly. Like a fiend at night, I cannot wait any longer, I horde the entirety of your being into my mouth and guzzle you up greedily. I sit there. With a stuffed mouth. My jaw can barely move with this amount of delectable goodness behind my teeth - bliss, this is your true form.