fond
memories
One day, Bob found a dead kangaroo levitating over his bed. “Holy mother of Bob,” he ejaculated. Luckily, Gadarene’s rubber sheets were absorbed by sixteen black panties, which tasted like kangaroo droppings. Bob couldn’t believe it’s not butter.
Meanwhile, Ted snarled, “Zounds! This isn’t Kosher!” He and his cockatiel had spent millions on margarine. Understandably, Ted committed hara-kiri with a condom filled with horseradish. “Yowsa!” cried Bob.
The steel blade in the vaseline glistened like moist vaseline-soaked steel. But, precocious ogres tiptoed stealthily around the cockatiel. Just then, hundreds of tiny elephants trod over California Street, only to be eaten by giant hamsters. Bob barely leaned over the rotting elephant before laughing. He exclaimed, “What a coincidence!” Just then, the dead Academy cadet laughed. Suddenly laughter seemed pointless. “Pointless?” Bob snorted. “Everything seems pointy! Even now, with the dead chickens trodding over the wet desert,” he chortled.
Meanwhile, back in Kansas, eleven years earlier, Dorothy Bobmother, Bob’s holy Bobmother, wept bitterly. Unfazed by her precocious stoicism, Sulu opined, “Wherefore art thou shapeless?”
“Here we smell!” replied baby Fran. “Who blew kangaroo away?”
That’s just what happened last night. However, robotic tentacles fondled Bobmother’s new fur hat.
Bob confessed, “Kansas doesn’t engender fond memories.” The
rabbi
merely
shrugged.
"Eh
what
was
I
smoking,
" the
rabbi
blearily
ejaculated.
"Sometimes
we
eat
juice
laced