In my salad days, I was raised on a farm. Times were tough and we had to tighten our belts quite often even though I was surrounded by a bunch of animals much like I am today. Daddy would strut out to the lumber mill to work for chicken feed, but he always managed to bring home the bacon. Though there never was enough meat to spread around on the range, our daddy always made sure we had a lot every time we settled down. Everything wasn’t always duck soup back then, for I often grazed on such luscious greenery as skunk cabbage, chickpeas, horseradishes, cactus tuna and dandelion tea.
When I left the farm at 18, I soon ran with the herd and began to evolve into a voracious meat-eater. Gone were the crab-apples, that tasty mincemeat pie, those beefsteak tomatoes and that purple cow. Wherever I went, I would either gobble up, wolf down or pig out on everything I could sink my teeth into. I consumed acres of beef, a peck of Cornish hens, oceans of fish, flocks of chicken and mountains of goat just to whet my enormous appetite.
Now here I lie in this lonely pit content with my lot in life because someone like you reached through through the barbed wire and gave me a little something to chew on. Since that time I have reverted back to the days of my youth where I now only eat that which glorifies God. So you see, my friends, while the seed was planted years ago, you just added the miracle-grow.