I rise every day.
In a Wisconsin town of around 175 people...
I DIE every day.
Yet, this happens to me. I am baked into creation, and eaten.
Everyday.
For I am the Scone of Kenosha. My ingredients, borne of Nova Scotia, travel by techno-mule (it's 2031, and something awful has happened, like World War 5) to a small town in Wisconsin-- Kenosha!
I am the Scone of Kenosha! From Nova Scotia!
Baked everyday, and eaten (or, leftovers-- TOSSED) by people! I am the epitome of the Circle of Life! In fact, I--
I... I am EATEN.
By PEOPLE. A-And turned... Daily...
...into SHIT.
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