| They're just trying to avoid a law suit, those God damned dirty bastards. They told me that just because I found a needle in my pork chop didn't mean they were the ones that stuck it there.
Hell, all they offered me was "fifty cents off your next purchase of pork products at Stater Bros". Fifty cents? Hell, it cost me a dollar a pound for the chops.
Still, don't settle for no coupon, cause we got rights--they're in the constitution, and ain't nobody, specially not god damned Stater Bros that can take them away from us.
Shit, Stater Bros. I never met any of them brothers, bastards are probably all from New York or California, or Rhode Island maybe. Bastards, everyone of them. Course, there used to be a Lucille Stater on East Valley Road.
She was pretty good people, cept that temper of hers. I saw her take a tire iron to Joe the mechanic's wife one time when she thought she was messin around with her husband. Thirty stitches Joe's wife got, and they say she can't smell no more neither.
Which really ain't so bad, cause Joe wasn't much for bathin. Still, that don't make her a bastard, least I don't think.
Less she's related to them Stater Brothers. God damned dirty bastards, everyone of them. Don't settle for no coupons, I tell you. Don't settle for no coupons. | 
