I feel like the FCC should trademark this ish or something. All you can
grab bins of bregs is just like the fabled bears full of glue: held down by
the glass (BBQ) ceiling.

I danced and died a million times, but how can I hold all those limes?!
Something I think about while pondering bins and bins of burgers. Mull it
over with your mullet like Abraham Sally did, all those minutes ago.

The issue of gristle just cannot continue, the crock (of shit) pot full of
turkey jerky was stolen with hostile intent. I can't leave until I get some
t(r)ees.

Knocking Four Times,
Wilfred Mott

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