Pony fish

It's been a long time since the happy New Year. There's a spot in front of the district. It's a young age. New year's firecrackers are ringing! I don't feel anything! It's too full, too full. It's only fair to say that there's a limited variety of fish, not to mention seafood. Every time you say seafood, you say it, you're scared. Once upon a time, the fish, the whole, the big, the ding, the slices, the boiled sweet salty sour, wanted to do whatever it was, except that there was always this thing on a busy and full day, and it wasn't round yet, thinking about a bowl of noodles a day. Let's do my fish. The fish are bigger, the police are bigger, and they're looking for a big plate, and, um, there's a smell that looks pretty good. In any case, it's a dish. It's the most primitive and real. The chick says, "Mom, what do I want to eat, and I say, "Put it in my mouth and give it to the bar." Mom, this is delicious. At this point, fish chips on the plate are less important than those of the police, and are completely intoxicated with their daughter's food... Cheese sauce