Passed an old guy on a hike yesterday who was greeting everyone he passed happily.
His t-shirt said Bad Mood.
“It tastes like feet!”
I’m sure it hasn’t happened yet.
I snap my fingers as I approach red traffic lights and my confirmation bias is off the charts.
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
[drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don’t.
– Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz
somethings
Like spelling? :)
Better than the next guy’s.
Hey, at least they drew the 4th box.