All the fish in the sea, the flowers and
All the fish in the sea, the flowers and trees in your garden, the birds in the sky, even your pet dog or cat. Everything is changing. Nothing will die or be destroyed, for we are3
made of stuff. Stuff is everywhere. No matter where you go, you got stuff. Stuff to do, stuff to pack, stuff your face, Stuff your ears. Don't touch my stuff. That's your junk.3
in other words: mi stuff es MI stuff. Also, I don't want your stuff near my stuff or anywhere near my immediate surroundings. But........ what is stuff really? Why do we need so4
much stuffing in our stuff? Is our stuff not stuffed enough? Some of us have even been bold enough to move on to things. Stuff is old news! But don't touch mine, that's good stuff.4
(SLAP!) I SAID, DON'T touch mine and I mean it. Unless...you got the stuff. You got the stuff, man? OK, then, now we're talkin'. Gimme all the stuff you got.3
"What stuff are you talking about? I haven't got stuff. I didn't come out with stuff on me!" " Well then you can't touch mine without the stuff. I told you I need stuff and lots4
of it. Cheap stuff, from China. Pointless stuff. None of that utilitarian crap. Stuff that hangs on walls or sits on toilet lids. You get the idea. So get out of here and don't4
Waste your money. Lifes too short and there are better things to spend money on. The Commissar warned us to try some other source for tractor parts and motor oils. Time was short.3
Time usually did not mind that being pointed out but today standing in his shadow it really stung. "That is now what your mother said last night," he yelled up at the Commissar.2
"Now hear this!" the Commissar's mother yelled, hoisting her skirts up and (after some effort) pushing a tremendous cloud of gas from her behind towards him. It was horrific.1
- 2012-10-23 21:52:39
- 2017-01-12 16:38:35
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LordVacuity Jan 12 2017 @ 16:44
I wish the Commissar's mother had kept her stuff stuffed where that stuff is usually stuffed. Is it getting stuffy in here?
Chaz Jan 12 2017 @ 22:03
Stuff what dreams are made of...