I wonder if you can make Spaghetti Carbonara carbonated? Seems to make sense.
I have started 798 poems but the first line always ends with kumquat and I don’t know a good rhyme.
If little green men every invaded our planet would there automatically be a third political party to join the Red and the Blue?
I wonder—wings, fingers, breast, legs—why doesn’t anyone want Chicken Toes?
What if the first three houses had rum cake instead of cookies and Santa got sloshed and just talked and talked at the 4th house?