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.
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?