The Sky Butcher levitated to his Cumulus Mall. Picked up a chuck of air, seasoned it with cloud, sprinkled it with breeze. No chopping, no flattening.

In walked a customer. (Thought I cut some figure.) What's it gonna be? Looking for something to **** in. Well, got you a real soft Pigeon Breath. This one's gonna stay flapping inside you. Zoots me, I gotta fly.

In walked another customer. (Thought I knew my cuts of heat.) What's it gonna be? Looking for something to ******* away. Well, got you a prime T-Bone Twister. You'll never be found again. Pack it in, I'm packing up.

In walked yet another customer. (Thought I knew my meat & greet.) What's it gonna be? Looking for a smell that puts me unconcho. Well, got you some tender little Southpaw. Phoooo! I'm gone already.

Blasta, the Sky Butcher said to himself, I'm heavytating back to the flats. My meat's getting thin up here.

On his way home he saw a truck passing. Oxy-Gen, it said on the side. Genetically modified air, new to me. Gotta get me some second wind first thing tomorrow.