The mice are starting to make ridiculous demands like entitled brats.
The flaming bag of poo on the doorstep means "you're welcome."
My dog learned to read and has been trying to poop in that yard for weeks. This explains his love for my old KISS records.
So you want me to take your little deck far away? Is that what this means?
The owner is so optimistic! The garden just wants to be left alone. They have enough friends, thanks.
Gnomes, bunny wabbits and fairies only.
From the looks of things, this place has been on the market as long as Rip Van Winkle lazed around growing a nap-beard.
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