Tell me a story about giant pigs you ask. Alright, fine.
Once upon a wonderful land of ice and snow.... Wait. Pigs don't live in the Artic. OK, let me try again.
Once upon a blossoming meadow (much better) full of big flowers of all sorts, the grass was lush under the tromping hooves of Little Miss Piggy. She liked to walk around, picking the bright, blooming flowers. Now, Little Miss Piggy was not little. Far from it, really. The people cowered in fright, scared that the ginormous Little Miss Piggy would stomp on them. And don't get me wrong. It's happend before. Little Miss Piggy had 3 children and a husband to take care of. Her husband was terribly sick and her children we're extreamly hyper and basicly boncing off the walls.
To the story. Little Miss Piggie's hooves hit the ground, almost making drumbeats. She found a pretty white peony. She plucked it out of the soil and placed it in her pinic basket with nothing in it. Off in the distance, a squeal (litterally a squeal) screeched. Little Miss Piggy looked up to see Mother Pig, who was old and couldn't defend herself. A Robber Frog (as they call them) was stealing Mother Pig's purse. Little Miss Piggy was horrorified. She looked around urgently. Nobody was around. It was up to Little Miss Piggy.
Little Miss Piggy ran as fast as she could to Mother Pig. She was huffing and gasping for air by the time she was close to her. Little Miss Piggy walked up to Robber Frog. "Don't mess with her," she growled. Robber Frog turned around, but by the time he was thinking of a response, Little Miss Piggy wacked him in the face with her picnic basket. He twirled around, his wind knocked out of his lungs. She hurried up to Mother Pig, who was whimpering and crying. Little Miss Piggy comferted her and looked at Robber Frog. He was sitting down, holding his head. She giggled and snatched up Mother Pig's purse. She handed it to her and Mother Pig sighed.
"Thank you," she cackled nervously. Little Miss Piggy gave her a hug and trotted off. She smiled to herself. She had a story to tell.
Happy? I told you a story like you told me to.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
I'm pretty sure with all the love for that show that I've seen around, there's subtle brainwashing involved. ...then again, I'm pretty darned addicted to this music so I shouldn't really talk...and...it's so...silent right now...must play it...
What is the meaning of life? That's so easy, the answer is TETRIS.
thats actually a petty good line. maybe KI:U dialogue won't be as bad as i thought.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
fool! nothing in real life applies to the internet!
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
All the children try to run, To him its part of the fun. His branching arms are for collecting, His face is empty of expressing. He sometimes hums a lowly drone, He will wander 'round your home. Dressed in darkest suit and tie, He won't let you say goodbye.
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