More funny than cute
“Well, I see the Roberson’s lawn still isn’t mowed. Why that lazy son of theirs can’t turn off that rock and roll long enough to cut it, I’ll never know. And the Spencer’s house next door is even worse, with those tacky plastic flamingos…”
Will you get a load of this guy up there? He wants me to play with him, but I can’t because he won’t get off me. I guess this is what people mean by “cross purposes.”
Your Honor, my client categorically denies that he had any part in digging up the garden and that the so-called “evidence” is purely circumstantial. We refer specifically to the precedent set in the matter of Me v. Your Lying Eyes.
A pair of smiling, unblinking converts led Marsdon into the greenhouse. There he saw Miss Henderson unconscious next to a strange alien object. “She feels no pain,” said a convert. “Soon, just like her, you will awaken in your new body and feel happier… calmer… flakier.” Marsdon pulled out his revolver. “That’s where you’re wrong, you bloodless freaks! I’m flaky enough as it is!”
Nothing’s flakier than a cat, Andrew Y.