Hot Buttered Groat Clusters
A feast of popular culture eclectica, easy to digest, every bit as tasty going in, as coming out.
Showing posts with label
sneakiness
.
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Showing posts with label
sneakiness
.
Show all posts
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Mister, I Know Your Game
You spill the last glass of milk in the house and look at me with that hang-dog, hungry look. Well, these bottles are staying in their holsters, and you are banished for a week.
Seeya, Fish.
From The Bounty That Is
Atompunk
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