Litter...acy

Rating: 1/10 (29 January 2006)

Pancreatic, fumiliar scentiment.
Keanu, not keen.
How do you chasm truth? You meek it; that's all. I curse the day I ever met that 8-fingered freak. The over-sized spoon; the baseball cap - it tells you he can't possibly understand.
This is your body
This is your tombstone Cottage cheese ankles betray the alchemy behind the pudding cups. They only salvage the mechanically separated orts of any inkling. No God-droppings here.
Cleaning the litter box shouldn't be so tedious.