“Oh, brother!” exclaimed the turtle, who had recently picked up the habit of nonsensical rhyming [although, obviously, he broke the habit in that first statement. Unless ‘nonsensical rhyming’ means not rhyming at all...]
“Fancy that!” semi-replied the facetious otter bedecked in a sparkling turban of green sweater.
Hog the Tarkanian mystically retched a voluminous wedge from the underground maintenance puddle of his otherwise stationary bicycle.
In contrast, the weather stale-ified progressively from winter to umbrella-season and hunting was on the prowl.
“Legumes!!!” cried Birdie (saving the author from this degenerating SSS™).
THE END
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