I'm a man who knows what he likes. I like the hot spray of fresh blood against my face, I like the cold clasp of wrought-iron chain mail around my thighs, and, of course, I like the taste of almost anything consumed from the skull of a beheaded enemy. For me, nothing beats a crisp beverage or hearty entrée served in the bony remains of a human head. Whether I'm swilling down breakfast mush or nibbling on a light dinner salad, a skull turns any dining experience into a special event.
I love The Onion.
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