atheists' are

atheists' are

intelligent

hi im ur neighborliy hood rat

So I gathered.

"Turn?" Belinda stood up defiantly. "Turn?" She raised her laminated eyebrows. Sparky cowered behind the Wooden Indian. Belinda was about to have one of her episodes. Foam

dribbled down her exactly cubic breasts. When she got like this we liked to call her Rabelinda. As in rabid. It's a sort of a portmanteau, you see. Port on the mantle was useful to

Spotify the brains of gogglewogs who drank port.

Which doesn't make a lick of sense, but neither would you after finishing off that bottle of port. Hic!

So they dragged him to the drunk tank where he spent the night. He was rescued from starvation by the sheriff's offer of breakfast, and lived merrily (hic!) ever after.