There was a brave girl with green yeys cutting

There was a brave girl with green yeys cutting a tree.
She was very impacient. So she decided to go home and start writing to her boyfriend about how disgusting his mustache is.
She was very impacient. So she decided to go home and start writing to her boyfriend about how disgusting his mustache is.
She was very impacient. So she decided to go home and start writing to her boyfriend about how disgusting his mustache is.
She was very impacient. So she decided to go home and start writing to her boyfriend about how disgusting his mustache is.
It looks like a horrible painting, wth those brown eyes and snobbish aristocratic air.
Like someone transplanted Fitzwilliam Darcy into a modern setting, and forgot to adjust his temperament for the digital age. Or maybe that's still what he would look like. Snob.
At any rate, if his monocle "accidentally" breaks, we'll be prosecuted for a fashion "don't," so we must tolerate Darcy's eccentricities until the stroke of midnight, at which time
we all pack our bags and run away. No job no responsibilities, grab the tuna, bread and tomatoes. Look for anti-fashion ninjas, hold them off until midnight and Darcy won't hang us
from the nearest lamp post. We made it! No, wait... someone forgot the half sours. Which one of us will go back for it? In the end- all of us do. Darcy was there, lurking for us...

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