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hola me llamo marc. el doctor me dijo que

  • hola me llamo marc. el doctor me dijo que
  • my llamo dijo was in desperate need of some serious therapeutic massage. But where's a llamo to go? So I went to the llamo lleather bar, and told cute guys of my doctor's prescript
  • ive out look on life. The other llama's didn't care. They were caught up with their own tawdry brand of vanity. I shrugged my wooly shoulders, dance always cured me of my duldrums
  • . I was no drama llama, but I set my mp3 player to 'random' and brushed the curly locks from my eyes. I began to croon, "Rama rama llama llama ding dong...she's mine oh mine..."
  • I didn't realize I was singing out loud until the grouchy old guy next to me whacked me over the head. Pretty rude of him to interrupt me mid-chorus, even if my singing voice was
  • mediocre. I turned and shouted at the old man," That really hurt! I know my voice isn't the best but please be respectful!" I put the earbuds back on and continued listening to my
  • favorite motivational audio book: "How to Get Ahead When You Don't Have an Axe." My favorite part was coming up. I recited it aloud. The old man came back with a crowbar.
  • He raised it up at me. "Woah woah woah!" I cried. I had no idea he was delusional. He held his crowbar with the most immense anger. I attempted to calm him, holding out my arms
  • & flapping them slowly while standing on one leg. "Flamingo-oo," I cooed gently. It was the only thing I could think to do at the time & by golly,it worked! He put the crowbar down
  • Many years ago someone began anonymously sending him taunting postcards with a pink flamingo. With time Sam became flaming go-rilla mad but now he'd found his dancin' flamin' gorl!

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