It's been a cold winter for drinking *****, dwellers of the north came forth to protest against such blasphemous traitors, lap dancers hiding pants of unwary clients, empty their pockets from coin and ***, five pints of *** is all it takes, men are seduced too deeply to resist any finger tips on their zippers, wives at home left without a supper, was it not for a master baiter to take the case, would have dawn passed their untouched chests.
                                Pure as a crystal, poor like a *******, musketeers nor robin hood couldn't have done a feat so big, town was cheering but the foolish men were weeping, having lost their trousers, now even shirtless remain while the glory of one pales everything around them, it could have been a love story, if and only was he standing in a straight line, noodles in the *** soft and sloppy, when the temperature doesn't match, heat gets turned off, his pants stay clean and just like that he disappears, leaving behind a legend for generations to come, some who admire, others despise.