Fools, the lot of you. I leave my cheese on the rocky shores of Ol’ Merry Bertha near the concrete jetties of man. There, the sweet mother deep slices my cheese with her sharp, salty caress, leaving my belly full and satisfied.
Fools, the lot of you. I leave my cheese on the rocky shores of Ol’ Merry Bertha near the concrete jetties of man. There, the sweet mother deep slices my cheese with her sharp, salty caress, leaving my belly full and satisfied.