"No no I don't think YOU understand" the ad guy said. "I don't want juicy" (he made air quotes). "I want a frikkin flash flood in my mouth! I don't want flavorful. I want a grenade
i want to eat pancakes! But
"Myron take a look at this huge spherical blue object in front of the Sun from NASA's satellite feed of STEREO1. I told you UFOs are real!" "Um. Isn't that the Earth?" "No way!
If I had won the Power ball, I would not be sitting in class right now. Instead, I would...
My great aunt Lillian is a famous author, but I am infamous, as in "not" famous, or so I thought the meaning of the word. I wrote that once in a biographical sketch for undergrad
I sent my eyes into the hills to search the dark places; to see the dark places. My eyes returned with good report.
Two days ago, Catatafish, of the Salmon School, was summoned by Lemmiwinks, hero of Mr. Slave's digestive sistem to help him kill his evil cousin, Sokratis.
Ashamed, I sped Veronica to the ER in my convertible. A banana was lodged in her throat. I warned her about practicing fellatio on fruit while laying down, but she didn't listen.
If only there was a song for every room, every room a song, then there would be room for every song. A song for every rock, a rockstar for every song. Who thinks he’s a rockstar?
Mozart faked his death so that he could do something else.