“Copley is a veritable ruby, lathed in restaurants, drawing me as a clasp secures.”
“Clasp this.”
“Oh my! Would food not you partake at present? Then perhaps Fenway beckons.”
“I wouldn’t go to that craphole if you lined up shots with your t*ts.”
“Where then—St. Charles in its spotted splendor?”
“Sure. And after I p*** in that toilet, what then?”
“Forest Hills, my good man, as yea matches beauty to the wreckage of solitary lives.”
“Sounds like a riot. Walking on dead guys. Why don’t we find a pool hall in Formaggio and ask a couple of punk locals to step outside?”
“Violence is purple, killing my soul! The sun and forest know but an adder’s tongue.”
“Uh, sure thing, genius. If it helps, I’m sure the guys in the pool hall will give you something to tongue.”
“Malevolence! Your boggy lack of cordiality welts in me the sadness of distant memory!”
“Does that mean you want to do it?”
“Sir! Your utter crudeness…uh, actually, OK sure.”
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4 comments:
Hey Andy, can you please return the silver spoon you left up my ass? TIA...
I thought that pretty boy saved by the bell goofy ass weirdo was OK as Andy's partner, but the show was never really the same after Trapper left.
To fair Emily:
Below the covers a rumble steeps
Far far beneath the abdominal spleen
The noxious wetness will not keep
The SBD sleepeth; be advised to flee.
Never fails. I finish wiping and, sploosh!--out comes another log!
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