“Oh, all right already…I’ll go with you guys on your spelunking expedition” said Tom, caving in to their demands.
“Joan is dead,” screamed Tom, while crying rivers.
“Mom? Mom? Where are you?” cried Melissa, calling her on the carpet.
(Even though I didn’t particularly like her, R.I.P. Joan.)
“Mommy, my butt hurts”, Tom assailed.
“Who knew that ghosts could be so damn heavy?” said Tom, lifting his spirits.
“Don’t sit down while I’m speaking to you, private!” shouted the drill instructor. Tom stood, corrected.
“Iris and I hung out last night, and we really had a blast” said Tom fundamentally.
“Now Fran, now Ollie…let’s talk this over” said Kukla with a burr in his voice.
“We must promote solar and wind energy and reduce our dependence on fossil fuels” said Tom, his ideas coalescing.
“It took me seven years, but finally, I’ve graduated from high school!” said Tom, diplomatically.
“I really wish we could go to a luau”, Tom said poignantly.
“Did I ever tell you about the cannibal feminist who would only eat famous Chinese martial artists?” said Tom, deliberately.
“Some words just don’t allow for good puns”, said Tom, lugubriously.
“Even though we have to have a label, we shall carry on,” Tom said GAMEly.
“Here are the steps that were used to set up the Internet”, Tom explained algorithmically.
“Clinton’s vice president used to run with the bulls every spring,” Al gored.
“That’s not a fish!” Tom wailed.
“Sorry, looks like that’s just a big dolphin”, said Tom, porpoisefully.
“I used to play cards all the time,” Tom sighed whistfully.
“Call me Ishmael,” said the narrator, having a whale of a time.