That Ms. Paint is one classy Prospitian lady. She is the model of grace and beauty. I am always a bit flustered in her presence, especially when she carries her little pail around like that.
Whereas THIS lazy sack of crap here makes me sick to my stomach.
Cal, God damn it. We were all supposed to dress up for this. It doesn't look like you even touched that nice suit I sewed for you, let alone swapped your eyes with those billiard balls and make them alternate rapidly.
This insubordination is putting me in a foul mood. It's bad enough I just had to take Falcor out behind the woodshed and blow his brains out after he caught the rabies.