"Billy. Thanks for the help - I want to see Pluto as bad as you but I still think another flashlight would work better than a handful of dead fireflys," remarked Bob (the smart twin).
"How dare you sir!! My wife is mortified!" ...BIFF..."We only invited you for a spit roast. I suggest (once you've done up your flies) that you get on the first plane back to New Zealand and take your outlandish ideas with you."
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It was a masterful shadow-figurine performance the twins were turning in....but then something went horribly awry.
"Billy. Thanks for the help - I want to see Pluto as bad as you but I still think another flashlight would work better than a handful of dead fireflys," remarked Bob (the smart twin).
Smell my fist!
Horsey says smell it!
"How dare you sir!! My wife is mortified!" ...BIFF..."We only invited you for a spit roast. I suggest (once you've done up your flies) that you get on the first plane back to New Zealand and take your outlandish ideas with you."
As simply as that, the cylinder-holder vs. right-angle holder dispute was settled.
Peter's chocolate addiction had reached new heights of desperation.
"Sir surrender that Mars bar your holding, or I will be forced to take your life!"
Peter had claimed yet another victim outside the Quickie Mart.
"Yes! Smell the hand that fisted your deceased mother! SMELL IT!
...then Hop-a-long Eric struck Tripod McGruder..
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