"Frankly, I don't give a damn."
"Goodnight, moon."
The knife came down, missing him by inches,
and he took off.
"God bless us, everyone!"
"So long, and thanks for all the fish."
"There's no place like home!"
Po-tee-weet?
"Well, I'm back," he said.
"Go the F*** to sleep."
“Now vee may perhaps to begin. Yes?”
"Rosebud."
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years.
All was well.
"Yes," I said, "Isn't it pretty to think so?"
zymosan: an insoluble largely poly-saccharide
fraction of yeast cell walls.
And they all lived happily ever after.
Comments
You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.