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One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So,

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle.

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and wants his money

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and wants his money more than his

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and wants his money more than his feathered green spectacles.

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and wants his money more than his feathered green spectacles. I therefore decided

One day, when I was walking, I saw the Lawnmower Man mowing. He said, "What lawn needs mowin'?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" A cat walked by very cat-like. The smell of motor oil filled made me want to drive my car across the Brooklyn Bridge and play real-life Carmageddon with a goat. This wish will be granted by very happy pixies on my birthday. The following day the Lawnmower Man ate a sandwich filled with cannabis and smoked the crack laced catnip from his hand. I was stunned. His dog looked crooked and snarled vulgar jokes at the condom dispenser. "What the hell?" said the wasps when they began their buzzing affairs. I played my DSi totally ignoring my inner spirit.

The Lawnmower Man woke up and drank orange juice. It tasted bitter, so he threw the glass of beer at it. While contemplating life, the Lawnmower Man eats a cookie - a magical cookie - and some milk! I think I need some grass to walk on. Grass is very nice. The man walked toward the grass but fell on his face. Alas! The grass dodged his face, and instead a thud replaced a crack, snap, boom! "Oh, woe is me!" he weeped. Poor Lawnmower Man.

I walked down the road, merrily playing my harmonica. Suddenly, without warning, I fell. What caused this, I don't know. I suppose I inadvertently killed my own sense of balance. Tragic, really. Anyhow, I returned to Starbucks to drink some balance restoring herbal infused frappuccino and remove Heinrich's balance destroyer. I subsequently rearranged his balance destroyer, so he would fall helplessly in love with Lawnmower Man. Daft git.

Meanwhile, Lawnmower Man patched his missing hairs. He was very satisfied with himself, and proceeded to avoid Heinrich by means of consuming mass amounts of scrummy cheese cake. He wiped off the scrummy crummies with a happy napkin. "I want a real women!", he roared. So off to Starbucks! Well, maybe after mowing the lawn. The Lawnmower Man started cutting his grassy friends with panache, and happened to discover an abandoned crane full of tasty herring. "Hmm, I think it's red. A good omen." He kissed the herring lightly, and put it in a pond, hoping for the Lord's gift of resurrection, and perhaps some fishy food for dinner. The herring growled. Lawnmower Man hastily put it to death.

Later, I happened upon an orphaned thumb. I gave it warmth and shelter, and it became my daughter, essentially. Ten years past, in October 1769, I realized I needed a slave to fondle my freshly mown grass and boil my demon possessed cabbages with resentment. So, I can chuckle. The thumb was in love with Fred Goodwin, and wants his money more than his feathered green spectacles. I therefore decided to charge rent