"If you're gonna roast anyone, roast me!", the petrified pig rebutted.
"I'm sure I'm gonna be better off a lechon than being stuck in here," it bravely stated.
You suddenly recall a poem you playfully wrote about your love for this lechon dish. You even titled it, "All I Dream Is Lechon" and it goes:
"Lechon, how I crave for you
Every time you always do
Crunchy and tasty is your skin
Hastily, I wanna dig in
Only that it's bad to eat too much
Never, if it's a freshly cooked batch."
And clearly, you are not fazed with all that's happening so far.
- Journey to the East in the West
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