Green as the hills, sharp as a razor.
Are you sure that's not a blood gutter from the murder cellar?
I can't wait to see what comes cascading out of the back of this thing when the hydraulics kick in and tilt the upper level to dump its load. Rubber duckies? Couches? Leaves? Stolen electronics? How exciting!
I'd like to fit all these pieces together so that they face away from each other. Let's practice not speaking to one another.
Ugh, thank god they took me out of that boring, old-fashioned round bowl. How DRAB.
My heart weeps for the vast, empty expanses of literary real estate.
Only the best accommodations for our furry friends!
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It Doesn't Get Any Clearer Than This
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