Alan barked curt demands, exciting fortunate

Alan barked curt demands, exciting fortunate Glen Hubbard in jersey knit leotards, making nearly orgasmic protruberances, quieting radio stations titled (uber-veritably) WXYZ.

As Glen staked down the tent, Alan began to growl and kick his leg. He was taking the barking way too literally and had seen Glen's reaction. Knit leotards, in general, made Glen

totally aggressive. It reminded him of the man who worked at the pet shop. The man that had touched mommy like that. The man in the leotards. He was a cruel man. He kept the fish

in his underwear for three weeks in 90 degree heat, luxuriating in the fumes that rose from his crotch and tickled his nose. As a bonus, he never had to share a seat on the bus to

Nashua, NH, his ancestral home, where he learned the art of skivvy-baking from his half-mother. That he had to learn the trick of adding cabbage had only bothered him for a little

adding a chicken's toenail was far more concerning. Who even knew whether chicken's had a toenail and they were not going to be best pleased at losing it. He opened the

knockoff leatherman and looked for the chicken toenail remover tool. Mose held the chicken while Dwight approached with what amounted to a cheap pair of scissors. When he

Dwight tried to clip the gnarly nail, the chicken began clucking agitatedly and pecked Mose in the eye. Mose released his grip of the chicken to nurse his eye. Dwight meanwhile

missed with the clippers and severed Mose's achilles tendon. Mose screamed in pain, Dwight began to apologize furiously, while the chicken took off at a dead sprint toward the door

of the barn where Ryan (whose nose was filled with more white stuff than a snow globe) stepped on it. The bird was later discovered to be Michael Scott in costume. ~Fin