The young man, with the confidence of a horny gazelle, strutted down the street in his flamingo pink suit, his posse of women dutifully trailing behind him, waiting for the promised ice-cream cone that would never come.
Behind the one-way mirror, the scientists with their unkempt hair and untucked shirts observed and took notes. “Yes,” they wrote, “it definitely seems we purchased the wrong kind of mirror.”
As the haughty and cynical 60-year old fashion editor stared through her limousine window at what even she could not doubt was true love, her heart melted, killing her instantly.
The Nidoqueen, pictured here, guards her children with a fierce Wonderbra.
Jesus would always wait for the bus with me, even when it was closer for him to walk to school. He seemed to like to talk to all the people who passed by, even if most people took a look at his socks-in-sandals faux pas before ignoring him.
