Sometimes it's nothing quite like a muck delivery.

A big Mac in your bedroom before a big night on the town.

Snuggling up on the sofa with a box of chicken selects.

A night of the cooking with a qualsapanoid cheese.

Being indoors with muck nuggets when it's raining outside.

On munching fries, just because it's Friday.

There's nothing quite like a muck delivery.

Participating restaurants only, serving times in delivery fees apply,

service charge may apply, see the muck dongs app,

Uber Eats or Just Eat for more details.

It was getting dark as we drove back to Mosquito's house.

Roger and his friend were head banging in front of the fire bird

to his song about a boy named Ricky that had a drinking problem.

And I guess did some bad things because the song went on about him doing time.

I sat in the back window overseeing a sloshing milk jug full of holy water.

Roger had put a seatbelt over it.

Roger's driving made me wish I had a seatbelt too.

The song about Ricky ended with a lot of wailing of people and guitars.

Skeeter rolled down his window and stuck his head out howling like a wolf.

Roger kept his eyes on the road, I assume,

because it was getting hard to see and we were now carrying precious cargo.

Skeeter reeled his head back inside and propped his feet up on the dashboard.

...