“I’m the best DJ in the business,” Tom said, scratchily.
“I can and I did,” said Tom candidly.
“This lettuce is wilted,” Tom said, crisply.
“Looking back 14 [anything] is just too hard” said Tom fortnightly.
“Yeesh. That wasn’t even that long ago. Is my memory fading?” Tom asked forgetfully.
“I do NOT want a lefty hitter batting cleanup in MY lineup”, said Tom, forthrightly.
“Why do they call them ‘Mounties’ when they mostly operate on flat land?” asked Tom plainly.
“His name is Trigger,” Tom said, hoarsely.
“I love to go to the canyon and make echoes of myself”, said Tom, resoundingly.
“This colander belonged to the founder of Philadelphia,” Tom said, pensively.
“I tried to vault but I have flatfeet” said Tom archly.
“I have had my fill of these York winters”, said Tom, discontentedly. “I hear in Spain the sun is glorious.”
“I completely understand how the Roman Catholic Church chooses its saints,” Tom said beatifically.
“Your allegation that I’m some sort of goblin, kobold or elf is just mischievous, if not plain false” implied Tom.
“I do not believe Mia Farrow” said Tom, woodenly.
“I prefer to use abbreviations for logical operators, if and only if I have to” said Tom iffily.
“Yes, Ms Gordon fell out of the back of my convertible when I hit that bump at 65 MPH. And then I drove on. So what?” Tom asked ruthlessly.
“Mama made Mimi’s muumuu,” Tom murmured.
“Why did you play ‘taps’ backwards!” Tom spat.
“It isn’t just hens that scratch pictures in the dirt. A cock’ll doodle too,” Tom crowed.