Jack Modder
A man with more juice than a lemon. You press him and he oozes like a broken water balloon. You’d pay for his leg just to take a sip.
My friend dared me to touch Jack Modder’s thigh. I got a squishy slap and a ton of modder juice on my shirt.
Jack Modder came to my house. He sat on my couch and made it melt like butter.
I asked for a taste of his leg. He said, 'You want a taste? I’ll give you a flavor.' And I got a full meal.