Word salad
I can have your salad swapped out with a triple decker bananas & ham I.C.E. cream sandwich 'n' cup of soup barely-any-barley du jour if you wish, which conveniently comes with an attached fold-out doggie bag, just in case anyone where you are or in your sandwich is overly sensitive to canine-related imagery.
Word
Look, Commie Pinko--if you're gonna drop it on down to two-word-Tavistock codeword Ping-Pong, I'd like to hear how you develop your arguments a little bit better first instead of dismissing everything with a sippy-cup-sigh and a quick grunt at the corner of Gym Locker & Romper Room on the way to the nap room where you'll crawl into your cubby and look for something safe to suck on before using "Tired! Nap!" as your ultimate combo argument finishing move.
You're also confusing "salad" with "spaghetti" and it's clear you don't know how this shit works, you're just mindlessly aping the arcane rituals that you have grown accustomed to with those you have come to admire through the magic and power of unconscious emulation and mimicry/mockery/hickory-dickory-dockery. See? That shit
worked. And, so did I. Cap. North N. Knowledge,
Signatory.
Here. Here's a K. *It clanks to the floor, gazing balefully at you* Go on, pick it up. Put it where it goes. You know how to do that, don't you? Pull on the K's arm and a leg and make a wish. Oh, wait, you might have to be scorned by society and be widely known as "a tweaker" in order to achieve the fullest effect.
By the way: frustration looks grim on you. Unpleasant....
Sad!!! So I brought you these unregulated, unlicensed illicit anti-depressants of Unknown Provenance & Mysterious Dosage. (They're Boston Baked Beans with little huggies and bunnies laser-etched on to their surface in all the languages that ever existed as viable, non-forked tongues upon the surface of Your World,
Punyling. How you say? HOOAH
