The sherriff took a look at your TAGS, and viola, you're late in paying up, so he has to zipper strip BAND you and take you in to the hoosgow!! Ah Frosty, in trouble again!

So now Sherrif Joe Arpaio has issued you TOGS of pink and you have a shovel in your HAND on the chain gang...

Sherriff Joe has big rottweiller DOGS, that will catch you escaping, chew you up and leave you with a BAND on your toe, marked "deceased".

What Sherriff Joe missed when he had me searched were the DOTS I had in my pocket, left over from stopping at the ice cream shop. As everyone knows Rotties love DOTS and gave me a HAND slipping away.

There are LOTS of reasons Frosty doesnt want ot go to jail (as discussed eariler) so he will try very HARD to never go there!

None of us wants to face the LOSS of freedom as we are all law abiding hard working folks but there is always the wild CARD of fate that you may be framed...

Well, then it's all the more important to maintain my good reputation so no one will believe a frame job LESS I end up with Bubba as a jail cell PARD.

I must FESS I once met Bubba before he went up the river and he is a fanciful fellow, quite the CARD...

My buddy Bubba told me about this MESS Frosty got himself into, I know sometimes Bubba is a TARD, but we gotta have Frosty's back, we need him to keep the home for wayward blacksmith tools open!

Yes indeed we must diligently keep those wayward gems from gathering MOSS or perchance become lost in a TARO patch somewhere...

Yes indeed, it's true! If I weren't such a civic minded person, not only would there be a lot more addicts playing with fire but the BOSS might make them hide their gems under a TARP.

I'll IM my mailing info soonest!

when I finally give up, I know after sending my tools to Frosty, I will feel great LOSS, however by then I'll be ready for my set of wings, and a HARP!

I certainly hope you won't wait till they lay you in the LOES to make the HARD decision. If you treat early enough you can extend your life considerably.

This has all taken the turn of a dark serial, like one of POE'S and so alas I must raise HAND to brow and acquiesce the melancholy of it all...

We are, we're caught in a dark serial! Oh WOE'S me! HEAD in hands.

laughing hard, teary eyed, stubbed my TOES, and then looked for my MEAD.

Stumbling hard, bleary eyed, my WOES awash in grogs of mead I spewed mightily and went in search of a MEAL, some bangers and mashed...

The thought of a meal has me thinking... DOES anyone have a bit of VEAL we could cook up for dinner?

After all that, the thought of a veal meal does have it's appeal. I'll gather my HOES and supply the veggies there's my DEAL.

Drunkenly stumbling, I fell into the HOGS pen, as they new me, and trusted me, they decided not to make a MEAL out of me, but little did they know, they were destined for the dinner plate, bwaaaaahahahahahahaha.

You probably slipped on one of the hog's LOGS and are so embarrassed you're just claiming to be stumbling drunk to save your dignity. Good thing the hogs didn't SEAL your destiny so you can maintain the fiction.

If doing a triple Linde with a half twist into the sty BOGS one down a bit too much then maybe a pool of sharks would work better at keeping it REAL with more daring do...

A Triple Linde with a twist into a sty. Is that what those who love daring do do?

I'll bet just the smell of your TOGS would turn you TEAL.

Slipping on hog poo I TOSS my hands in the air, land in the pit, and the pigs think they have their own trained SEAL.

That always entertains the TOTS which makes it more likely their pretty moms will take a SEAT to watch too.