Danny Boy, Danny Boy! My Mouth is Callin' Yer!

As the luck of the Irish would have it, I've got something in my mouth! ooooo! Guess what it is!

A) Columbian coffee, roasted over a fire of kidnapped victims.
B) 98.6 degrees F.
C) A Shillelagh that I wanted you to stop hitting me with.
D) My mouth (ooo! The implications!).
E) A firehydrant.
F) Brown pubic hair, dyed so that no one can tell your age.
G) The pipes! The pipes are calling for a big, fat cock, Danny Boy!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

The philosophical implications of your mouth being in your mouth are enough to make even Aristotle run for the hills.

I still can't wrap my head around it. It'll be a sleepless few weeks for me, that's for certain.

12:02 PM  
Anonymous H. Thomas said...

I use hair dye down there, myself.

Would you like some fries?

12:06 PM  

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