Please corner the fear and accept the hate of the volley ball. We can negotiate with it when my pet comes back from the mental hospital. He spat on 43 coffee cups and lost the 23 dollars I gave him for his birthday and they diagnosed him with amnesio-spittism. He spends his day beating the wall of a dead man in the back room of the cafeteria. Then he sleeps on top of the hospital provided clothing that belonged to now deceased patients. I think my dog is normal. Says the watermelon who mooed during his birthday party.

He resided along the fancy coffee street. His name was dumbombano. He wore a laser cape and black bricks. His eyes were a piercing yellow and his skin was made up of a million tiny mirrors. I always scrunched between two houses when I fight with him. Anyway.... About your dog.