Ladies and gentlemen, start your forks.
Gather ye to the table, and fill your tumblers with spirits, because we're done playing with our succotash and jumping beans, we're not building any more replicas of Devil's Tower with our mashed potatoes, we're not pouring ketchup on any more goose-eggs, and we're no more crow...
Tonight, we fill our bellies with the butter-slabbed meat from our enemy's loins...
Tonight, we moisten our napkins with the clam broth that flows through our rival's bloodstem...
Tonight, New England lobster, with a side of Coby beef.
Tonight, our scantily clad waitress -- Terri -- will bend over our table as she fills our glass and takes our order from the laminated menu, while the mobile musician -- playing a yuke -- fills the air with kind words and melodies of yesteryear, pre-2004.
Tonight, we eat well.
Let the Orioles, Royals and the entire National League dine on pork and beans.
Tonight. Fill your plate. Tuck in your bib. Sharpen your steak knife. Bring your appetite. We eat fresh.
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