A staple of courtshipping a female, a meal of protein was to be consumed whilst being served by other females of lesser breeding stock.
It stared down at a plate of pink protein paste that the naive and unenlightened might even call slime.
"This looks, umm, nice. What is it called?"
Two dandy gentleman passersby stopped in their tracks, alert to the question, and exclaimed in unison:
"Dude, it's beef."
"Was that Rick Perry and Ted Cruz?" it said, perspiration glistening on the top of the forehead, obviously star struck to the threshold of fainting.
Later, upon completion of the feast, they were to board the black F350.
"M'lord" it said, down on bended knee, fingers locked together forming a stirrup for his foot to step into and propel him into the powerful cabin that would pilot the 7.3 L V-8 engine.
"M'lady" he said with a smile, looking down on the female, a fertile step stool sent from the heavens.
They rode off in the friscillating dusklight, man and woman, without shade of ambiguity.
