J: I’m Jiblitz!
G: and I’m Gravy!
J & G: And together we're Jiblitz n’ Gravy!
G: We’re here to ejumacate all you balls and curls out there in TV land how to whoop up a lip-spanking linger-flickin’ gastro-intestinal-icious Spanksgivin’ Fiest that’ll rock the hockers off yer soccer mom's knockers, and kick the liquor outcha crack daddy's knickers.
J: And it won’t cost a chiggers nipple neither!
G: ‘Ats right Jib’ cause we do it the way them pilgrims done did: cheek and eepanomical like. Ya see, the ‘grims didn’t have a whole heap a wallet wampum so they had to trim and trade like a shaved pimp in a Skrimp n' Save. But at the same time, show them Packachicklets a thing or two about gwer-may cookin.’
J: Yep it was all about one-uppin them Nippantuckets, and they ain’t had no Souix chefs so they raped the villages and pillaged the women like teenage termites on a scrotum pole. But after a hard days a work, they come back with a whole honky heapa o' helpins to make your eyes water and yer mouth pop right outta yer damnfool sprockets. Oo-oowhee!
G: So git out yer fryin’ pants and into the fire ‘cause we gonna have ourselves a FOOD‘N-NANNY!!!
J: HE-E-E-EHAW!! GOLLAMEE-JILLICKERS ‘SGONNA BE TASTIER’N a TON O’ HOG JACKETS IN FANNY PACKETS, I MEAN FLAP JACKER CRAP, SNAckle and pop goes the weasle...muffins...
G: Shuddup Jiblitz. Try ta keep yer exuberatin’ within the limits o’city ordinances. Now whatcha got for us there Jib’?
J: Well Gravy, norman-mailery Thanks-divvin’ ginner’s all about a big ol’ honkin’ gollywhomper of a turkey. But I’ll be rumpsnuggled if I can shell out the buckaneers for one them yardpeckers. So as a subs-ti-tooty ah got me one them there bearcats! But I'll wager mah twelve-gager ain’t nobody gonna know the damn differentiation any-hooters-the-size-a-warty-melons!
G: That's right ,good nuff fer the beginner, what counts is what's in 'er.
J: And she’ll look like a winner once we hog tie and skin’ er!
J & G: Meat; it’s what’s for dinner!
J: And what-cha-ma-gonna-ma stuff that mongoose with, Gravy?
G: Better question is: what aint we, Jib’. We gonna lard ‘er up with everything and its mother, includin’ the stitchin’ kink!
J: You mean the sinkin’ kitch?
G: Her too, madder ‘o fat that’s where we gonna git it! We gonna show y’all how to make jenny-you-whine chestgut stuffin’ out o’ scrapin’s from the garbage disposal.
J: That sounds plum-right, down-wind dees-gusting Gravy.
G: Oh countcha hair moan frere, its gonna be a delica-smellica-toe-yota celica-see and I’ll tell ya why...
J: Wise hat?
G: On a counter we make everything fresh as a day-she-was-born.
J: So let's do it without further adid, shall we? First we take a loaf a Uncle Pa’s Inn Bread an hack it to bits wit a chain saw massacre
[BR-R-R-O-O-OW-W-D-D-d-d]
G: Whoa! Easy with that thing turbinado. You better count yer fingers.
J: Hold on a minute... GRAVY! I got FIVE! Wait’ll Aunt Ma hears about this!
G: Nextly, we incarcerate this trash barrel full o’ mega-table veddely. We got keys and parrots, teets and burnips, sporn and kinitch, artabagas and rutachokes!
J: That’s a pro lotta ho-duce, Gravy.
G: I ain’t done, jumpy-the-gun. Zoo-cumbers and cuccinis, parsparagusnips, and last but not leeks, okra.
J: They wuz on Okra last week?
G: You kiddin'? Okra Wimpfry don't eat veggy tables, but she could eat you under the table! So first we shove em all down the disposal del gar-baggio which I have transformulated with a bowl under the sink into the poor mans queezinart.
J: Well shuck my corn and stick mah jicama, that's a mighty clever trickama!
G: Now we has to infiltrate the amalgamation with real imitation chestnuts. Weakin’ o’ spitch, we need to introduce the saviour-y herbs: Parsley meet dill, mustard meet thyme. Tarragon, pepper...
J: The pleasures all mine.
G: Tumeric, cumin meet basil and salt, If the bay leaves with sage, its oregano’s fault! Great Humpin-Ja-blowz-a-fat! We almost forgot...The Mono-scrodium grew-ta-mate! Now all ya gotta do is shovel the whole smitten kaboodle right up that varmints pookie chute and...and...
J: Whut seems to be the bowelfunction Gravy?
G: Well I’ll be pickled stink and monkey whipped, Jiblitz. We plum fergot ta hollow ‘em out!
J: Oh well Gravy, we done plum run outta time.
J &G: WE’RE JIBLITZ N’ GRAVY! GOOD NIGHT, EAT RIGHT AND DON'T LET THE BREAD CRUMBS FIGHT!
G: And don't fergit to eat safely!
J: And eat dee-fensively.
Jiblitz N’ Gravy was brought to you by: Maalox and Queazy & Wretch Brand Stomach Pumps and Barf Bags.
