I Sang a Song of Sixpence once…but someone gave me ten not to finish.
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.
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?