And she ran from the room,
ketchup and mustard in her hair,
running like she just don’t care,
running like a momma bamma,
crooning like a yellow bird,
crooning like she swallows a turd,
swinging from the chandelier,
swinging tales of bratwurst and beer.
There’s no telling what kind of gun
she pulled from her holster while on the run,
but the knife fell flat onto the floor
and she ran screaming out the back door.

Moral of the story:  Don’t mess with a woman while cooking hotdogs after a 12 hour shift.  She might just take you down with her.