Look at you. Sly ol’ dog. “Gonna woof at her. Doggy needs to bone.” You made it so creepy so quickly. “She smells like overpriced textbooks and institutional mac-and-cheese.” Billy, c’mon. “College filly. Put a saddle on her and prance her through town. SHE MY PRIZE!” … Shrooms just come on? “Little bit, yeah.” … … Continue reading Peachy, Keen