Jennie, hit the bricks!
Hmm, imaginative use of body parts.
"Do" the cube?
We're just contemplating me getting shot again.
Ooh, another Garibaldi. And Captain Baldy!
My arm hurts. Too many guys!
Wanting to find out up close and personal is just so NatPack.
Go blinka blinka and follow follow.
Do these nooses work? Oh, good!
That's when I learned to turn off the bing.
The NatPack would've drowned in the moat.
"The pedestrians I will not challenge," she says, as she aims at them.
Oh! Neat!
We're gonna stick Maureen in the snowbank again.
Hey, I'm good at twitching!
Sharpen it up and cut out somebody's heart with it.
How many were there? How long ago did they pass? Which way did they go? I must find them, for I am their leader.
[while throwing snowballs:]
Maureen, I kicked a rock at you.
"Everybody wants to be a Data Input Device these days."
I was 200 miles away and I was afraid.
It's the "keep going" fork.
Origi-Fu.
10,000 Penguins--and Maureen.
His butt gets premonitions: "Oh, Caine must be around..."
Love the phallic symbolism of the cane... (Caine?)
We don't need English. We're the NatPack. We communicate in whatever's handy.
No pulse, no rhythm, no cardiac output...
Sheeps in wolves' closings?
She sells sheepshanks beside the sea shore...
Paul Gross, in drag.
You just went from bed to bed.
You could almost do a height chart off that.