Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you. Even though you're imaginary. Right? Am I right? Still, even so, I can assume that you taste good.
That chipmunk that tried to set me on fire? Honest mistake. It only wanted a roasted nut.
That giant eyeball in the sky has been watching me again. At least it isn't the giant runny nose always trying to sniff my pants. I hate that.
That thumping sound in the background — it's a thumper in the background, thumping. My neighbor doesn't know how to do anything quietly.
The food on the menu tastes funny, and there isn't enough of it. Maybe if I order some on a plate it might be better. At least it would be on a plate. I suppose. One would hope, eh?
The sky was full of wizards last week. It was all wizards, everywhere, sky-wise. I don't have any idea what that was all about, but there you are — wizards, all up in the sky, all week, up to no good that I could identify. Not especially noisy, though now we do have wizard droppings all over our roofs again.
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Me? I'm usually like that.
