It’s that time of year again – thousands of mares and stallions are escaping their ranches run by tyrannical rodeo operators, and now they’re looking for homes.
Evil lurks in every corner.
Your day is just a little bit worse.
Why do its long purple tendrils reach to the sky even as it sits nestled in the dark in a wooden bowl obtained from a $1 pile at a stoop sale?
That would show everyone–everyone who ever said I would never amount to anything.
A lot of people come into my house these days and try to give me advice.
Legolas: A shadow rises in the east…
Aragorn: Not now, Legolas. It’s always rising. We’re here to talk about Frodo’s stealing.
I don’t like that I have six, scraggly little legs. They are too scraggly for my taste and I still haven’t figured out what to use the middle ones for.