I dunno. I’m still on defense about the whole thing.
Because they’re constantly balking.
I told her I wasn't familia.
He said mahalo.
Desperate survivors are forced to live in a post-alpaca lip tick wasteland.
Just stop imagining.
They needed to bring on the Sub early.
He sits down, orders a beer, and begins to mull over his day.
After a few minutes he hears a quiet, and high pitched voice say "I like your shirt". He looks around and doesn't see anybody, so he goes back to his drink.
A few sips later he hears the same voice say "You have lovely eyes". He looks around again half expecting to see Alvin the chipmunk, but there is nothing.
After a few more sips, he hears it again, "I bet your parents are real proud of you". Finally he has had enough. He slams his drink down, looks over at the bartender, and says "what the hell is that high pitched voice I am hearing?!"
The bartender looks up and says "Its the peanuts...
They're complimentary."
They didn't even bat an eye.
Walk him, then pitch to the rhino. He’s a sucker for a curveball.
They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.
As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.
They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.
Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?
They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.
"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".
They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.
But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.
The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.
And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!
Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?
"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"
In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and
... keep reading on reddit ➡“They didn’t have any seafood there!”
Does that make one "intonational?"
My ear hertz.
Listening to them hertz too much.
But I fell and now am in a very sticky situation...
I know this will resin-ate with many of you out there.
It Hertz
We pitch tents in front of the White House and protest.
We call this high coo.
They put me in a world of hertz.
The game was a classic, "threw" and "threw"!
I've got 99 problems but a pitch ain't one
There isn’t another soul on the street.
Suddenly, from out of the gloom, comes an ominous bump...bump…bump.
He looks behind him and spots a furtive, shadowy thing coming down the street after him.
Unnerved, he picks up his pace, finally breaking into a panicked run.
He looks behind him again, and the shadow is closer.
Bump…bump…bump.
The glow of a streetlight illuminates the shadow momentarily, and, to the man’s horror, it is a coffin, bumping down the sidewalk.
He quickens his pace, running as fast as he can go, but the coffin only pursues more quickly.
BUMP…BUMP…BUMP!
He reaches his house, fumbles frantically for his keys, and slips in the door just as the coffin reaches his front steps.
He slams the door and leans against it, catching his breath.
Bump…bump…bump.
There is a moment’s silence, and the man wonders if he dares to breathe.
Suddenly…. Bump…bump…bump…Bump…
BUMP! BUMP!
BUMPBUMPBUMPCRAAAAASH!!!!
He rebounds away as the door breaks off its hinges.
Scrambling to his feet, he charges up the stairs, and the coffin races after.
BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP!
Terrified, he backs into a corner and starts throwing everything within reach at the coffin — a handful of papers, a vase, a box of crackers, a lamp — but the coffin keeps coming!
BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP INCHESFROMHISFACE, and nothing seems to slow it down!
His hands fall upon a bottle of cough syrup, and he throws that at the coffin, too!
The coffin stops.
But I don't have the right attitude.
I hope yaw appreciate my pitch though
Two old guys, Abe and Sol, are sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons and talking about baseball, like they do every day. Abe turns to Sol and says, "Do you think there's baseball in heaven?"
Sol thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal: if I die first, I'll come back and tell you if there's baseball in heaven, and if you die first, you do the same."
They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Abe passes on.
One day soon afterward, Sol is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Sol... Sol..."
Sol responds, "Abe! Is that you?"
"Yes it is, Sol," whispers Abe's ghost.
Sol, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in heaven?"
"Well," says Abe, "I've got good news and bad news."
"Gimme the good news first," says Sol.
Abe says, "Well... there is baseball in heaven."
Sol says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"
Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."
"You son of a pitch"
Me: I can't believe I have to memorize the entire Gettysburg Address by tomorrow.
Dad: Make sure you don't forget the zipcode!
Me: -_____-
Because they prefer the shingle life!
" Great, now we can be putt buddies!"
B♯
I'm thinking of pitching it on Dragon's Den.
There were three medieval kingdoms on the shores of a lake. There was an island in the middle of the lake, over which the kingdoms had been fighting for years. Finally, the three kings decided that they would send their knights out to do battle, and the winner would take the island. The night before the battle, the knights and their squires pitched camp and readied themselves for the fight. The first kingdom had 12 knights, and each knight had five squires, all of whom were busily polishing armor, brushing horses, and cooking food. The second kingdom had twenty knights, and each knight had 10 squires. Everyone at that camp was also busy preparing for battle. At the camp of the third kingdom, there was only one knight, with his squire. This squire took a large pot and hung it from a looped rope in a tall tree. He busied himself preparing the meal, while the knight polished his own armor. When the hour of the battle came, the three kingdoms sent their squires out to fight (this was too trivial a matter for the knights to join in). The battle raged, and when the dust had cleared, the only person left was the lone squire from the third kingdom, having defeated the squires from the other two kingdoms, thus proving that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.
You walk him, and pitch to the rhino
You walk him and pitch to the rhino.
Walk it, and pitch to the Tiger.
