Zack: Looks like the teacher told the class to paint their dreams again.
Steve: My mom grew a mustache and then a pickle with eyes tried to bite me in front of the bay window in the den.
Zack: You tried to run, but no matter how fast you thought you were going you could never leave the Viking helmet.
Steve: No, that's not what happened. I dreamed the pickle spit poison on my lap and then my mom kissed me and said she wanted to marry me and then I woke up and my dog was licking my face.
Zack: That's from the cover?
Steve: What? No, that was my dream last night. I thought we were still looking at the crashed airplane one.
Someone told TIME magazine about trolling and now we all just have to deal with it.
If that boy isn't willing to shoot his laser and get you that carbon, he's not worth your time.
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