Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot
Of a fully charged icing anointment utensil
He puts forth a quarter-ounce green rosette
Near the summit of a dense but radiant muffin
Of his own design.
And brushing his scapular aside
Proceeds to dump these inside of his shirt
He turns to us and speaks
"Some people like cupcakes better
I, for one, care less for them"
The muffin man is seated at the table
In the laboratory of the utility muffin research kitchen
Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon
He gathers an intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants.
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