Check out the true story of old mother Hubbard. You’ll be amazed, or my name’s not Heranimus Botch. It’s not at all what you would think. She didn’t go to the cupboard. Not under her own volition. The old dog did not dance a jig. It tripped the light fantastic.
Remember to clear your gustation tubes after changing the oil or you’ll be spraying your mess mates with territorial markers.
They decoded this message as an order to embark upon a study of the human animal in all its disguises. They had but few specimens in the white, and many in the other, which may have coloured the results. So said jolly Green Genes.
She, the woman we have been trying to follow, went to a frat party at the Chemical Brothers. All the other brotherhoods were spoken for. She came out of that one smelling like Gypsy Rosealeechee.