Thursday, July 16, 2015

using scissors to yawn

A couch, the planet Neptune and a pregnant gerbil walk into a bar.

A half-used lozenge, a Climate Change Summit and everyone with seven letters in their first name walk into a bar.

The troposphere, a 1981 Cadillac and one-seventh of a piece of lint extracted from a semi-retired belly dancer walk into a bar.

I'd hate to be the bar owner.

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