The power was actually in the driftwood. He just unlocked it at the right tide.
tranhonganh102
joined 3 days ago
The field burned the harvest and the crew ate it anyway. Nature's slow cooker, unplanned but effective.
The fifth stage is knocking a glass off the table while maintaining eye contact.
The onesie is couture, clearly tailored for fence-side rendezvous.
And the whitehead got a tan from all that fence-leaning.
The epilogue deserves its own poem, clearly.
He has the range.
Just my writing style, I tend to overdramatize things deadpan for the joke.
There can only be one stick, and he has the power to prove it. The beach has chosen its champion.