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To the front of the line, Jannie. Someone shoulda broke you a long, long time ago. I have nary met a chick'n I can't be pick'n with this here long and mighty Pressure Fryer! I tell ye back in aught-4 I met a real mean one. He had big, air stealing nostrils, monstrous, boot lips, muscles that rippled under his deepfried skin so it’d look like my patent pending chick'n wangs as he’d be twisting here and yonder. T’was an older gentleman, the owner d’ye ken?, that had hired me to break this particular buck. Was some half-dozen breakers what had tried and failed! I tracked this this big-assed baboon, by fallerin’ the sounds of his impressive proud buttocks, clapping as he capered to and fro on yon gentleman’s land. There he be, proud as sweet tea, black slave’s body framed by yon settin’ sun, just begging to be broke. I approached from the east, formerly Kentucky. Seduced him with a 12-Piece Bucket as he were sat alone out front a shack, mending a loincloth or some such. Knocking him to his glistening buttocks produced a thund’rus CLAP, and I mounted from the front. I tell ye boy, but that buck began to FIGHT! This unbroken, proud negro was ornery I tell ye, but I ain't ne'er been denied, d'ya ken it? I had my cock out in an instant as he scrambled onto his black belly and began ta’ wrigglin’ this way and that. And bucko did he began to wail! As loud as my kitchen fire safety systems. This buck could tell the breaking was coming, and I tell ye, he did BUCK. This obstinate cur could turn on a dime and give ye some change! I tell ye as the winds were my witness, he were a right Kentucky Fried Wang, struggling and flopping as he did, gyrating his unbroken black anus and dodging my breaker man’s Secret Recipe. But he broke, and I finished the job. D’ye ken? That buck broke. Say sorry, boy. But they all break. By the man Jesus and his snowy white pappy, now say hallelujah, boy, you'll break, too!
