This morning while I was making a huge omelet scrambled eggs with onion, bell pepper, mushrooms, tomatoes, and cheese, Will came into the kitchen, said, “Good morning to you,” and proceeded to me that I lived in a shoe, that I looked like a monkey, and that I smelled like one, too.
I hope it’s not true.
True Love.
(<3)
And what’s wrong with monkeys?
Roger
AKA
Nibbles the Cocktail Monkey
Yeah. I had thought, perhaps, what Will was actually smelling were remnants of Roger.
It probably would have been an omelet if you hadn’t been interrupted. But what fun is that?