to a sloppily butchered pork knuckle, bone and sinew jutting and lurching asymmetrically beneath its folds, the tightness exaggerating the granularity of the suet and causing what little palatable meat there was to sweat, its transparency the thief of imagination.
-- Chris Wieloch, Brookfield WI
As the sun dropped below the horizon, the safari guide confirmed the approaching cape buffaloes were herbivores, which calmed everyone in the group, except for Herb, of course.
-- Ron D Smith, Louisville, KY
Seeing Mrs. Kohler sink, Detective Moen flushed as he plugged the burglary as the unmistakable work of Cap Fawcet, the Mad Plumber, for not only had her pool of assets been drained, but her clogs were now missing, and the toilet had been removed, leaving them with absolutely nothing to go on.
-- Eric J Hilderman, Greenfield, WI
5 comments:
It was early morning and the fog still hung in the air as he typed slowly on his blog, so everyone could hear what he had to say.
That first one was the staple of many a pulp novel a half century ago.
That first one applies to a lot of women I see, especially the Latinas. You have to be very special to rock a really tight dress without looking worse than my imagination would make you. My mind is very flattering, and why not - I have a choice, and I choose you to look hot. Don't ruin it for us both.
bag, you really have something there.
Especially when I think about the ward secretary in San Juan...
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