Dear belle of the ball,
Everything I have is covered in your dog's hair. Your dog and I have much in common. Last night when BOY and BOY were bonding over kelp and flytraps and miniature things once again paraded lovingly into public view, I rejoiced at stolen moments and mutual confessions of delinquent friendship maintenance. My family folds you in with cake and TV and non-contact communion and why not? 3 on the truck seat is better than 2, though dads are not peas per se.
Truly there aren't enough sharpies in the world.
I forgot to notice whether you like wings or thighs, I was so hungry. I suspect, however, that you (like me) use your spoon to make a wee dimple in your mashes for gravy, just like me, and that this says much about us and how we fill voids. The forthcoming DSM V will tell us much about this no doubt.