There's no chickenshit nonsense bullshit on my fone, goddammit!

Look deeper into this sentence and you will find that the message, frivoloous as it may be, evinces a dancing cadence when read, especialy aloud. Much like a sentence that I wrote embedded within a piece of prose, long forgotten, about the school cafeteria and lunch boxes, wherein I put, "Mom made for trading fruit for boiled eggs at table two."