So I replied, “No it doesn’t.”
So now I’m going home for the hollandaise.
He was picking his nose.
A commentator.
A buccaneer.
I have only my shelf to blame.
A hardboiled egg.
It was a knot-for-profit.
And they’re always raisinet!
A pouch potato.
Probably.
A roamin’ numeral.
It already had millions of degrees.
She got stuck in Orbit.
I find them quite re-markable.
One wags a tail and the other tags a whale.
She kept running away from the ball.