Tonight I am too cheerful to be a grumpy sod. Let the world go to hell in a handcart, I’ll help push.
There’s no reason. I’m still less flush than a pair of fours, it’s just a random attack of the cheeries.
It’ll pass. Quickly. It always does.
In the meantime, if you have a tongue you aren’t using, my friend Radar above needs some help.
Coming in below the radar…
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Radar dog has seen you coming.
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It’s all down to the manner of presentation, Leggy.
Furor will run his tongue over anything smeared with Erdnußbutter.
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Pour rum on it and he’ll swallow it whole!
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