719528 eventually found some pictures of monster trucks doing donuts and nodded smugly at the computer screen.
Like hell you will, jerk.
Someone's making a killing in the pets business.
I'm not even going to analyze it, I'm just going to move on and hope I forget about it.
I get this weird feeling that 279971 was a really high mucky-muck in an important government office somewhere just sitting around using the Internet when a red hotline phone sitting on a cake plate started ringing.
We clear up the BREXIT for confused Americans wondering why the global economy is collapsing this time.
BEEP! BOOP! ZAP! Video games aren't for my dad anymore! Because he's dead.
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