“No, really, that is 10 inches”, Tom inserted.
“The exorcism is complete,” Tom mumbled dispiritedly.
“I arrived by parachute,” Tom explained.
“I’m gonna sue you again,” Tom retorted.
“I…you…we…” Tom pronounced.
“I’m just blowin’ hot air,” Tom bellowed.
“This place is haunted!” Tom said spiritedly.
“My savings aren’t growing,” Tom said disinterestedly.
“I’m just wandering around,” Tom rambled.
“We’re going in circles!” Tom declared roundly.
“Camping is fun,” Tom said intently.
“That scam artist really fleeced me,” Tom admitted sheepishly.
“I’m giving up prostitution!” Tom exhorted.
“Take your hand off my breast!” she tittered.
“She was last seen riding the sorrel mare,” said Tom hoarsely.
“I can’t find my book of hexes,” said Tom disenchantedly.
“She kicked me right in the you-know-where!,” said Tom testily.
“Just put it in park for a while,” Tom said idly.
(My kinda thread …)
“Take that cassete out of the player” Tom ejected.
“That’s my take on the situation” Tom opined.
“Your skin is thick” he said callously.
“That’s rough” he barked.
“They pushed me down” he said dejectedly.
Gingerly they cruised around the spice islands.
“The cat’s in the syrup” she purred sweetly.
“I’m thinking about the stock market now” admitted Tom, limply.
Mod? Mod! Excuse me, Sir! Sir! Could we have a little adult supervision here, please? Tom asked adivsedly.
dammit.
Not quite a Swifty, but fun:
Every time he saw a keyhole, Tom peeped intuitively.
“And then the serpent tempted Eve,” Tom insinuated.
“And that’s how I got rid of my zits!” Tom expostulated.
“Ouch! Those nails really hurt,” He said crossly.
“I’ll need more candles”, Tom glowered.
I love these, so much. You guys are cracking me up.
“I’ve been attacked by zombies!” Tom exclaimed brainlessly.
“Put down that dynamite!” Tom exploded.
“They’ve almost got that building torn down” Tom dissembled.
“We shouldn’t use worms to catch fish” Tom debated.
The Boston Red Sox originally sold him to the Yankees before the 1920 season. At the end of his career in 1935, the Yankees traded him to the Boston Braves, but he lasted only a couple of months.
Ein, Zwei, Drei, Funf—Tom exclaimed fearlessly.
‘That’s not a gun, this is a gun,’ Tom shot back.
‘But I love Moby Dick!’ Tom wailed.
‘I hate female dogs,’ Tom said, bitchily.