Ahoy! In the event of winning the latest futbol competition, we decided to celebrate. What better way than roastin' up another cock on the ol' rotiserie? What the hell!! The Poultry Man is on strike?!?! How are we all gonna eat and celebrate the most important win in the history of the game of futbol if the god forsaken poultry man is on strike!? Hey!! I have an idea. Let's just sick that lil' pooch that you inherited from your foster family in Hamburg. They really abused that poor pup to the point it's posture proceeds to appear punctured. He's a wild one. Just mutter the word "ATTACK"and he's on a mission to destroy. Now that the food situation is figured out, how do expect us to get home, all we have is 1 cent. Sure can't take the local bus. We could either sprint home, or take that sweet looking 50,000 dollar pimped my ride car that you were dreamin' about the other night. Remember, the one that the creepy guy with dilated pupils told you about in the park. You don't remember him. Oh, wait, I forgot, it was that other man hanging out in the back of massage parlor on Geary and Polk. Red headed man, mustache, smelled pungent. I'm sure it will come back to you once you start thinking more about the team and less about those big feet you got that just happened to kick the winning goal against that freaky alien looking creature on the "Y" team. Gosk? I think you mean gosh you fool.