AaaOOOOOOOOOOO! Werewolves of London!
Next time, give me a call and I’ll bring a boar spear and seasonings, and we can laugh together while it roasts.
Opioids = nausea and vomiting for me. A genetic heritage from a parent. Migraines, from the other parent.
Oh, look, I have a migraine. Does that count for both?
My sugar glider will land on your head regardless.
It wouldn’t be lucre if it wasn’t filthy.
The oddest part is that her establishment doesn’t serve coleslaw.
Yes, you can still buy it, but some of the very special chemicals are missing.
LET THE MANDATORY SINGING COMMENCE.
And the eldest among them shall don The Sh*tweasel, emblem of the feculent, tuneless squealing to follow.