A Letter from Your Deprived Coronavirus Pomeranian
I eat at dawn. As soon as the sun's crescent pierces the horizon I will eat my dog chow. Or else I will go ape shit.
I eat at dawn. As soon as the sun's crescent pierces the horizon I will eat my dog chow. Or else I will go ape shit.
Oh, and instead of those dozens of legs you’re used to, you’ll have six legs and there’ll be basically tongues on the end of each of them.
As a real American bird, I’m going to get down on the ground and fight a sewer rat for half of a discarded Chalupa.
Despite everything I do, the only thing anyone can remember is a rumor that I mistook chicken poop for Runts candy.
The first little pig went to a boardwalk bar, met up with single pigs, and thought masks were for tree-hugging liberals and was a Democratic hoax.
We will ensure the bear sits through an hour of sensitivity training that contradicts the lifetime of violent impulses it has acquired.
My cat was born in hell. She exists solely to antagonize me and if anything ever happened to her I would kill everyone and then kill myself.
And your chicken nuggets are shaped like Shrek. How old are these things? They haven’t promoted a Shrek movie since 2010.
Works hard but makes no money / Loves avocado and salmon breakfasts / Obsessed with filtered water / Goes on many long, sad walks
First there was a cluck-cluck here, then a cluck-cluck there, but soon my nightmares were filled with the cooings and cawings of the foulest fowl.
Clara, stop pecking the sound guy! I’m sorry, Clara has recently developed a taste for human flesh.
Together, you and I shall become pioneers of pest control vexation by breaking down what I call "The Art of Infestation."