Livestock: I went back to the coast and watched lizards and I got wet because the tide came in and ate the beach and I had to walk through water to get around a big cliff.
Moof: oh no
Moof: was it deep water?
Livestock: nope but my shorts got kind of wet
Moof: oh no
Livestock: I kicked a log out into the water but it came back to land, so it was meant to be
Moof: sometimes logs are destined to be land logs
Moof: some are sea logs
Moof: only the sea can decide
Livestock: the sea did not want this log and told it to go home
Moof: that is why they call the sea "master of the logs"
Livestock: what else do they call the sea?
Livestock: do they really call the sea that?
Livestock: why did you lie to me?
Moof: i dont know, livestock
Moof: i dont know
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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Moof and Livestock discuss life, love, human nature, and all the most important issues affecting humanity.