spongye
I sat on the bench. It was a cold winter afternoon, and I had just bought my brand new Will Smith-embroidered socks. They were mighty comfy, and made out of his pubes. As I was eating my delicious sandwich, Bruce Willis came out of nowhere and killed me.
wolly mammoths on my socks, wolly sheep on my rocks, wolly spiders on my legs, wolly blankets on my pegs. I saw the sheep throwing his woll in the dissecting machine right before it passed.