“My black bile and phlegm are out of balance,” Tom said humorously.
“I don’t give a damn who gets my stuff when I die!” said Tom unwillingly.
“Do you really want my opinion?” asked Tom, humbly.
“Looks like I gotta haul another truckload of hay,” Tom said balefully.
“I shudder to think of all the dangers Harry A. Potter went through,” said Tom haphazardly.
“I think the penetration scenes are the highlights of any porno,” Tom indicated.
“I suppose President Nixon and I had better move out of the White House,” Tom said resignedly.
“I much prefer grass than pebbles” said Tom forlornly.
“The house numbers on this street go 1, 2, 3, and then 5. Somebody must have stolen the other one” said Tom, with a foregone conclusion.
“I really liked that carnival ride about the difference between how Americans and the British end the alphabet,” Tom wheezed.
“What are some punctuation puns?” Tom questioned markedly.
“Puns again?” groaned Tom periodically.
“Are you finished with that magazine yet?” Tom asked periodically.
“I fucking HATE string quartets!” said Tom, violintly.
“But viols are worse,” Tom fretted.
“The worst thing is when the bandleader gives himself a long solo,” said Tom, conducting himself accordingly.
“Yes, I *would *like another serving of that broiled calf meat,” Tom revealed.
“If it were up to me, no airplane would land where it was scheduled to,” Tom said divertingly.
"I wonder why Americans spell it ‘ass’ " said Tom sp’arse’ly.
“But you told me to throw the entryway of the fence over there!” Tom castigated.