I laughed until my face hurt. So did she,

I laughed until my face hurt. So did she, but it didn’t take as long. We stayed there for a few hours until I decided it was safe to go back and steal some ice for her face.

I was nonchalantly walking away with, he quickly yelled, "Hey! You didn't pay for that!" I ran out and headed to the ER to help Joan recover from the surgery. When I got there,

I began bleeding from every face-hole. "Oh God flowing within me!", I shouted to the sky, "Taketh my blood as thine sweet-cherry wine!" The silver swan extended its mercury tongue.

On the tip was a small monkey wobbling back and forth, clashing cymbals with mechanically precise timing. "How will this help the beeding?!" I shouted at the swan.

But the swan merely honked in response and began dancing to the rhythmic smashing of cymbals. Using this opportunity, I swiftly grabbed a handful of feathers and

assembled them into a headdress. I hastily jammed the headdress onto my noggin, hoping merely to camouflage myself with the rest of the swans, but the strangest thing happened then

the swans broke through the window and started quacking loudly at the stuffed taco doll on the windosill. They were probably quacking at it because of the fact that

it was stuffed with swan foie gras. Chef Robuchon liked to experiment with new recipes in his farm kitchen and the swans had enough of force feeding. The Swan rebellion

started with a bang as one of the swans tripped over the Chef's shotgun but it ended with a whimper as the Chef grabbed the leader and stuffed her full with malted barley.